What Is and What Should Never Be
by Willy D
Summary: A fifth grade story where rivalries are challenged. Helga pulls out all the stops in her quest to deliver Arnold from Lila's spell.
1. In the Morning

Author's notes:

This is my first fanfic of any kind. The title of the story is taken from the Led Zeppelin song of the same name. My inspiration for the story's general structure and organization comes from all the great fanfics I've read so far. For the rest, my inspiration comes from Craig Bartlett. Thank you, Craig, for one of the greatest creative works of our time. Here's to Party Wagon, and the hope of the Jungle Movie being made.

Some introductory notes:

Although I'd like the story to stand on its own without a lengthy setup of this sort, it would be best to piece things together and fill in the plot holes before I begin. This story takes place with Arnold and the gang at P.S. 118 in the fifth grade, so needless to say the entire run of the TV show and both movies have already taken place.

I'm taking some liberties and assuming a couple of the major events of the Jungle Movie to suit my story. First, I'm going to assume that Arnold does not find his parents, because if he did, popular opinion seems to be that he would then move away from his neighborhood, thus killing my story. I'll leave it up to the reader to decide if his parents died or if they simply couldn't be found. Either way, Arnold still lives in the boarding house with his grandparents as before.

Also, I'm assuming that Arnold has not in any way answered Helga's confession from the first movie. This is something else everyone is expecting in the Jungle Movie, but as with his parents, if Arnold confessed his feelings for Helga already, I've got nothing to work with! Seriously, in any long-running story where some sort of crush or other huge secret is involved, why does the writer never resolve it until the very end?

Okay, that's all you need. If any other plot holes surface, oh well. There are plenty of plot holes in the series itself; if the writing staff can gloss over them, so can I!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! But if I did, I'd be putting it to better use than its current owners…

"Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey—"

Arnold slammed his hand down on the alarm clock. Wow, he thought, first day already. After what seemed like the longest school year ever, the summer had passed by in a blink of an eye. Arnold sat up and glanced across the room. The clock on his desk read 7:30. Didn't I set my alarm for 7:00? He looked at his potato clock, which read 7:00. Looks like I need to change that potato.

He got up and headed down the stairs from his room. A line for the shower had formed outside the bathroom. He didn't leave the house the day before, on account of some heavy rain, so he figured he didn't smell bad enough for a shower. He walked past the line of boarders on his way to the kitchen.

"Look, Kokashka, I'm next! You never leave the building all day! Why do you need to take a shower?"

"Because Susie doesn't let me back into the room without one. But how come you need the shower, you're just going to get dirty again at work while you're knocking down buildings!"

"Look, Oskar, at least I have a job; you don't! That means I've got dibs!"

"What am I supposed to do, just stand around in the hall until you get done with your pointless shower?"

"This is crazy! You two can argue out here, but I need to get cleaned up and down to the restaurant!"

"Hey, you stay out of this, Hyunh! The locked-out loser and I were both ahead of you!"

Arnold remembered seeing a place on 37th St. where they sold those "now serving" signs with the numbered tickets, like the one in Mr. Green's shop. Grandpa should go get one of those, he thought. He walked into the kitchen, where Grandma was in her rancher outfit.

"Howdy, Tex! What can I get for ya?"

"Just some cereal, Grandma. I need to get going." Grandpa walked in and sat down at the table.

"Where ya off to today, Short Man?"

"School, Grandpa."

"School? Already? But I thought you got out for the summer yesterday!"

"Grandpa, that was three months ago."

"Three months! That must mean I've been living the same day over and over again for the last three months! It's just like that Bill Murray movie!"

"Groundhog Day?"

"Could be, although come to think of it, I don't remember seeing it."

"It was on TV earlier in the summer—"

"You're right, it was! So then today isn't June 15?"

"No, Grandpa, it's almost the end of August."

"Great Scott, the rent! Listen, Arnold, I gotta go collect three month's worth of rent from the boarders before today ends and another three months pass. You have fun at school, Short Man."

On the other side of the neighborhood, a front door opened and a young girl in a pink dress stepped out. She yelled back into the house, "I'm going to school now!"

"What? Oh, honey, do you need me to make your lunch for you?"

"I'm way ahead of you, Miriam!"

"Oh, okay then, just…"

With that, Miriam fell back asleep on the couch. Helga shut the door and stomped down the steps to the curb to wait for the bus. "Criminy, I thought I'd never get out of there! Three months with Miriam and the Beeper King, plus a month of the perfect daughter and her perfect boyfriend! Sheesh, I never thought I'd actually be glad to go back to school!"

She sat down on the bus stop bench and glanced at her watch. 7:40. Great, twenty minutes till the next bus gets here. At least I'm not back there in the nuthouse. Helga slouched down on the bench. She adjusted her bow. She stared across the street for a minute. A car went by. She adjusted her bow again. She glanced down at her watch again. 7:42. "I am so bored."

A moment later, something crossed her mind. She looked around and, with the coast clear, reached in her dress and pulled out a heart-shaped locket. "Oh, my love, three months of only viewing you from afar, only speaking to you for a brief moment here and there. My heart is aflutter at the thought of spending each day with you once again, being close enough to smell that wonderfully sweet hair, to stare at that perfectly shaped football head. Oh, Arnold, how many years will go by with us being apart, not together as destiny says it should be?

"This year, I must tell him, again. Only this time, I have to make sure he knows that I mean it, that I truly and deeply love him with every ounce of my young heart. And then, I'll listen as he reveals his true feelings for me. Yes, I will! It doesn't matter what the other kids might think of him or me, I will tell him! That is my solemn vow! That is my solemn vow, if I do nothing else this year, I'll…"

A raspy sound approached behind her. Air passed in and out the lungs with a loud wheeze, and the warm breath passed across the back of her neck. Helga slowly put her locket back in her dress, clenched her fists together, tried to ignore the sound for a moment, then spun around and grabbed the kid by the shirt.

"Brainy! Seriously, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"Uh…" he wheezed. "I don't know…"

She spun back around. Maybe yelling at him will work, she thought. He let out a breath. Guess not. With that, Ol' Betsy connected with her target, square in the nose as the bus rounded the corner.

"Man, Arnold, fifth grade! To tell you the truth, I didn't think we were gonna make it."

"I know what you mean, Gerald. It seemed like we were in fourth grade forever."

"Well, you know, we did a lot of stuff while we were in that class. I guess with all our adventures, it just seemed like we were there for years."

"'Our adventures?' You make it sound like we're living in some kind of fantasy world."

The bus pulled to a stop. The driver opened the door and greeted the boarding passenger. "Well, if it isn't Helga Pataki."

"Hey, Murray. How's life been treatin' ya?"

"I can't complain. Mona and I've been goin' out again for four months now, I think we might get reengaged here soon."

"You don't say? That sounds great, but if you'll excuse me, I've got some bullying to catch up on."

"Yeah? Well just try and keep it down, will ya? I don't want to have to throw you kids off the bus on the first day."

Helga began the walk down the bus aisle toward the back, passing her classmates as she went.

"Helga, how do you like my new shoes? I know, they were only the second most expensive shoes in the store, but I was feeling a bit thrifty."

"Nice of you to save yourself a few bucks, Princess Lloyd." 

"Hey, Hel-ga! You're still wearing that stupid pink bow? She thinks she's still in preschool, ah hah hah!"

"At your age, Pink Boy, shouldn't you be in like, high school? And that's a real nice zit on your forehead, Harold."

"Hey! It's bad enough I'm fat and four years behind!"

She arrived at the back of the bus and sat down next to Phoebe. "Hello, Helga. How was your summer? Helga?"

"Huh? Oh, long and tiring, can't wait to get back, you?"

Phoebe began talking about her summer, but Helga was completely zoned out of the conversation. Her eyes were locked on the oblong-shaped head in front of her. How does he keep the length of his hair the same all the time? It never looks too long or too short. He must get it trimmed every week. And how does that hat stay right there all day, never once needing adjusting? Oh, my love, how I'd love to bury my face in your beautiful hair, to wander along with my nose enjoying the medley of fragrances…

"Helga? Helga!"

She popped out of her daydream. Arnold was facing her from his seat.

"Hey, what's the big idea, Arnoldo?"

"We're at school, Helga. Everyone's off the bus already."

She glanced past Arnold at the empty seats and Murray watching them in his mirror. "Let's go kids! I'm taking Mona out for breakfast!"

They both stood to leave the bus, Helga shoving Arnold aside as she marched up the aisle. They stepped off the bus and walked up the steps of the school.

"So, Helga, how was your summer?"

"Not that it's any of your business, geek bait, but I spent the summer with the ever-so perfect threesome of Big Bob, Miriam and Mary Sunshine."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah, one big, happy family." She trailed her words off as she walked through the doors. Arnold stopped inside the door as she walked away, staring at her. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

It feels good to get an idea rolling. OK, I'm ready to hear what everyone thinks. Constructive criticism is very appreciated. I'm going to try to be consistent and update the same time every week; expect a new chapter every Tuesday. Thanks for reading.


	2. The First Day

Author's notes: Thanks to my reviewers, and rest assured, the story will continue for quite some time. I can only see as far as the halfway point, and that's still a long ways off.

Here's the second chapter. I'm mostly giving the other characters some "screen time" here, and setting things up for chapter three, when the plot really gets rolling. Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! (And this applies to every chapter in case I forget to put it again)

"Last name?"

"Petersen, ma'am."

"Petersen…Petersen…ah, here you go, Stinky, room 206."

"Thank you, ma'am." He began to walk away from the registration tables. "Hey, wait a minute! 206?"

"What gives?" cried out Harold. "Why are we back in our old classroom?"

"Man, Arnold. It feels even more like we're still in 4th grade!"

"There's gotta be a mistake somewhere, Gerald. I'm sure someone will find out and correct it."

"Whatever you say. I just hope they hurry up; I'm getting flashbacks to last year already."

With that, the door opened and in walked a teacher. The classroom fell silent at sight.

"Good morning, class!"

"Mr. Simmons?"

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, class, it's not a joke."

Gerald approached the front of the room. "Look, Mr. Simmons, we think there's been some kind of mix-up. I mean we're starting the fifth grade, yet we've all been assigned to room 206 again. And to top it off, you come walking in here as the bell's ringing. What gives?"

"Well, Gerald, class, I can answer your questions in a moment, but first, I've been told that Principle Wartz will be making an opening address in the auditorium this morning, and we all need to proceed there in an orderly fashion—"

"Just wait a minute." Arnold approached the front and took his place next to Gerald. "Could you please tell us what's going on?"

The class verbally concurred with Arnold. Mr. Simmons paused for a moment, then responded. "Okay, Arnold, class. The teacher that was originally assigned to your class, Mr. Packenham, transferred schools just last week. On top of that, Ms. Slovak is returning to work after spending almost a year on the women's pro golf tour. So with her back as the fourth grade teacher and the fifth grade teacher gone, I got bumped up to this class."

"Hold on a sec! You mean you're going to teach us again for another year?"

"Yes, Harold, that's right!"

The class let out a loud groan. Gerald then spoke up, "But how come we're still in the same room as before?"

"Oh, about that, there was a fire in the fifth grade room over the summer and they're still fixing it up."

Another loud groan filled the room. The groaning lowered as Principal Wartz came on the public address.

"Good morning, pupils, and welcome back. For those of you who may be new here, my name is Principal Wartz, all-around fair and benevolent school administrator."

Low muttering could be heard in the classroom directed at Wartz's comment.

"The all-school meeting in the auditorium is cancelled, due to the fact that the, uh…air conditioning isn't working in there. Yeah, that's it. Anyway, I thought you'd all want to get right to your studies instead, so I won't take up anymore of the teachers' time. This is Principal Wartz, wishing you all a safe…productive…school year, and…that is all." Wartz switched off the P.A. and went back to playing with the toy animals from his desk drawer.

"Well, okay class, I guess we'll get down to business then. I've made a new 'special' seating chart for you all," evoking more loud groans, "so if you would all move to the front of the room, and I'll start reading off names." The class huddled behind Mr. Simmons' desk as he moved around the room calling names and pointing kids to their desks.

"Man, Phoebe, I didn't actually think I'd rather be at home than here today, even with Miriam and Olga still lurking about."

"I must admit, Helga, I too feel a bit of animosity and disappointment in getting reassigned with Mr. Simmons."

"Okay, first row. Park, Sid, Stinky, Nadine…"

"I can't believe we've gotta put up with Simmons again for a whole 'nother year!"

"Come on, Harold, it won't be that bad."

"No, Arnold, it will be that bad! I went nuts having him as a teacher last year; I don't think I can make it through another! And then what if I got held back again?"

"Second row: Harold, Rhonda, Curly, Eugene."

Rhonda gave Curly a steely glare. "Don't even think about it, don't get a single idea in your head!"

Curly smiled back at her sheepishly, causing her to shudder.

"Okay, third row: Arnold, Lila, Sheena, Helga."

Mr. Simmons finished reading off the names as Helga sat down in her seat at the back of the room. She surveyed the arrangement. Let's see, Phoebe's one seat up and to the right, I guess that works. Then she noticed the distance between her and Arnold. Three desks! Such a distance to be separated from my love, so near, yet so far! How can I longingly gaze at your beautiful head with Sheena and Lila in front of me? And especially Lila, why did Simmons put Lila right behind Arnold? I should be up there!

"Okay, class, before we begin working, is there anyone who needs to be moved to the front so that he or she can see the board better?"

Yes! A loophole I can exploit!

"I need to move, Mr. Simmons!"

"Um, okay, Helga, but I don't remember you having any problem seeing the board last year."

"Yeah, well that's because I spent a lot of time over the summer, uh…staring at the sun! Turns out it's not so good for the eyes."

"Oh…well, try to be more careful when you're outside. Is there anyone who would be willing to give up their seat for Helga?"

Lila! Come on, Ms. Perfect, be your courteous self and give it up!

"I'll move Mr. Simmons!"

Harold? No! No good! I have to be behind Arnold!

"Actually, Harold, I'd rather have you up here in the front so I can keep an eye on you."

That's right, fat boy; sit down.

"I'll move Mr. Simmons. I don't mind."

"That's very nice of you, Arnold. Helga, does this work for you?"

Of course, it works just fine, now I'm in front of him! Come on Helga, think of something! She walked up and stopped before she reached the front.

"Well, uh, actually, Mr. Simmons, things look real good from here."

"But wouldn't you rather sit at the very front?"

"Oh, no. See, I'm actually a bit farsighted, so it's better right here."

"I see. Well, that's fine if you don't mind, Lila."

Lila glanced up. Helga stood glaring down at her, quietly cracking the Five Avengers.

"Well, I…"

Helga's changed her expression, remembering whom she was dealing with. She gave Lila a pleading look, and cocked her head in Arnold's direction. Lila followed Helga's lead and nodded in understanding.

"Okay, I'm ever so certain I can accommodate your needs, Helga."

"That's great, really appreciate it, now move it or lose it, sister."

"All right, then. Class, let's take out our new math books and get started."

Yet another groan arose. Helga took out her math book and opened the front cover. She began to trace an outline on the first page, using the boy in front of her as a model.

"Boy howdy! Look at that spread!"

"Don't get your hopes up, Sid. Remember they always put out the good stuff on the first day back."

"Are you kidding me, Gerald? Pizza as far as I can see! Sloppy Joes—" Sid took a bite as he spoke, "that actually taste good! And lemon and tapioca pudding, piled high, all the way to the ceiling! And to think, today's all you can eat!"

"Looks like the school lunch program's going over real well with you, Sid." Gerald walked out of the lunch line and sat down at a table with the gang. "So did anyone here do anything interesting over the summer?"

The whole table murmured quietly, "No, not much, nothing really…"

"I did something really neat over the summer, you guys!"

"And what was that, Eugene?"

"Well, my parents took me to Dinoland one day, and you know that new ride where they strap you to a long cable and drop you from the top? It was so great; I was soaring like a majestic eagle! And the best part was, nothing went wrong! I was sure something would happen, like the cable snapping or something. But nothing happened! Isn't that something, guys?"

"Actually, come to think of it, it is pretty amazing Eugene went on something that dangerous and came out without so much as a scratch."

"I know, Stinky! I think I might have grown out of being a jinx!"

"Hey! Come back here, kid! All you can eat means one at a time!"

Curly came running out of the lunch line carrying a stack of trays with several dozen bowls of pudding. Eugene stood up to go to another table after telling his story, and Curly smacked into him, dropping the stack of trays and burying Eugene in pudding and broken bowls.

"I'm okay…"

"Man, that's pathetic. All right, one side, fourth graders, VIP coming through! Move it, bucko, you're now in the same lunch period as Helga Pataki, which means make room so I can get to the food!"

All the fourth graders standing in the lunch line stepped aside as Helga grabbed a lunch tray and zipped down the line, grabbing a bit of everything. She quickly made her way to a table.

"Darn it, forgot the milk! Phoebe, go fetch me a milk, and if those little punks give you any lip for cutting, point 'em in my direction."

"Fetching!"

What a sure fire trick for getting rid of her, she never seems to wonder why I always forget the milk. Helga put a piece of pizza to her lips and slowly worked her way to the crust as she stared across the room.

"So, Arnold, what are we doing after school today?"

"I thought we could all go bowling, they've got a special running this week, half price for everything."

A collective agreement of "yeah" and "sounds great" rose from the table.

"Sounds like a plan, Arnold. Hey, you think we could get a few girls on this, too?"

"Aw, come on, Gerald! Every time we tried to do anything all summer, you always brought that up!"

"Yeah, what's it to you, Sid? Can't a guy have a healthy interest in the opposite sex?"

Arnold turned his head back to the table after glancing across the room from Gerald's suggestion. "I think I'm with you this time, Gerald. Let's invite the girls."

"Hey, you guys want to go play baseball instead?"

The rest of the table seemed to agree with Harold's suggestion. They all turned to Arnold and Gerald for their decision. Gerald wasn't sure now. "Well, I don't know—"

"You guys go play baseball; we'll be at the bowling alley if you need us."

Gerald looked at Arnold, surprised. Since when did he want to spend the afternoon with a bunch of girls? The rest of the table stood up as the bell rang.

"Sounds to me like those two are goin' on a double date."

"Yeah, good luck, lover boys!"

Gerald followed Arnold to the other side of the room. "Hey Arnold, where'd that come from?"

"What? I just really wanted to go bowling."

Gerald noticed Arnold looking off in another direction. He followed his line of sight and caught on. "Oh, I get it now. Just don't get any ideas, Arnold, at least not while I'm around. It's not really supposed to be a double date or anything."

Arnold didn't respond. He was already thinking about spending the afternoon with her.

I didn't plan that cliffhanger; I finished that sentence, reread it, and decided it was a good place to stop. Speculation about who the girl is, as well as reviewing is appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	3. Stuck in the Gutter

Author's notes: In case anyone wants to know, for the duration of this story, Monday's going to be the update day, and I guarantee I will post a new chapter every week. Thanks to my reviewers, I'm writing this for all of you (although I do enjoy reading it myself as well).

As far as this chapter goes, consider my first two a warm-up, as this chapter is almost as long as the first two put together. I've got some more things to say but I'll let you read this first.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!, but neither does Craig, so who am I to complain?

Arnold wandered along the racks of bowling balls, trying to find something that fit. Hmm, here's the one I always used last year. Nope, too small. He found one next to it that fit, but seemed too light. He glanced at the weight. Ten pounds? He moved down the line and found a twelve-pounder. Great, now the holes are too big. He kept searching.

Meanwhile, Gerald spoke with the girl Arnold brought along. "So why did you of all people decide to come with him?"

"Well, you know, he just kind of asked me as I was walking out of class, and I didn't have anything better to do after school."

Gerald gave the girl the same questioning look he had earlier when Arnold got on the bus with her. Of all the people, he kept thinking to himself.

Phoebe came walking in the front entrance with her companion. "You know, I really don't think it's such a good idea for you to be here. I mean, Gerald made it sound like this was kind of a…you know…"

"Quit worrying about it, Pheebs. Besides, I don't have to bowl; I can just hang out in the arcade in the corner over there. I didn't really feel much like bowling anyway…"

Helga trailed off as she caught sight of Gerald and Arnold. She was about to go off into another trance when someone else stood up next to them and came into her sight. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"What is it, Helga?"

"Oh, nothing, Pheebs. Look, I'm itching for some old school action, I'm gonna hit the Frogger machine." With that, Helga took off towards the corner of the bowling alley.

"Hey, Phoebe," the three of them spoke collectively.

"Hello, Gerald, Arnold, Lila."

"Well, now that we're all here I'm ever so ready to begin."

"I'll just put the names in and we'll get going then."

Arnold entered the names into the computer, then stood up and went over to Lila to ask her if she wanted him to help her bowl. Gerald didn't show it at the time, but he was taking pity on Arnold. Why does he keep pursuing this girl? I mean, I know it's Arnold, but how dense can someone be? It's so obvious she has no interest in him that it's painful to watch. Sorry, buddy, I guess the only way you'll figure it out is with time.

Helga slowly crept along, using the tables behind the lanes for cover. She reached a certain table, peeked around and was satisfied with her vantage point.

"Arnold, what a dweeb! What an unbelievably dense boob! Even after a year of chasing this girl with no success, he's still lapping at her feet! Get a clue, Football Head, you're chasing the White Whale, you're searching for Atlantis, you're trying to find the diamond in the rough. There's nothing there!" A pause, and she changed her tone. "But who am I to talk? I'm the one who's crawling around under food tables at a bowling alley to spy on him. Hey, wait a minute…"

She reached her hand up onto the table and felt around. Nothing…nothing…aha! Her hand landed in something warm and sticky. Could it be…yes! Nachos! She pulled them under the table and started eating.

"Hey, Gerald, have they brought our food yet?"

"I don't know, let me check."

Gerald walked over to the table behind their lane and looked over the food that had just arrived. "Let's see, we've got French fries, Buffalo wings, chicken strips, sodas…hey, everything's here except for the nachos."

Helga froze in mid-chew.

"Don't worry about it, Gerald. I'm sure they're bringing them any minute." Phoebe joined Gerald at the table. He shrugged them off at Phoebe's remark and sat down with her.

As they made themselves comfortable, Helga began to panic. Her pigtails were inches from both of them, and to top things off, Gerald's shoe had Helga's dress pinned to the floor. Think, Helga, think!

"That's it. Keep your shoulder up. Remember, push the ball out on your first step… bend your knee… okay, now follow through!"

It was all Lila could do to stay on her feet. She stumbled and almost fell down as she let the ball go, putting it directly into the gutter. Frustrated, she turned and walked off the approach as Arnold continued his coaching spiel. "That's okay, we can work on that, we just need to do one thing at a—"

"Look, Arnold, if it's not too much trouble, could I just bowl the way I want?"

"Sure, if you want, Lila. I was just trying to help."

"I know, Arnold. But I'm not trying to go pro here or anything. You don't have to always try so hard and help me."

Before Arnold could answer, she picked her ball up, walked up to the foul line, set the ball down and rolled it granny-style. The ball worked its way slowly down the lane, and when it eventually made it, all ten pins fell down for a spare. Gerald and Phoebe applauded from their table, while Arnold stood embarrassed. Lila walked past him with a somewhat smug smile and joined the others at the table. Arnold forced a smile out in return, and went to get a bite as well.

Criminy, now they're all over here! What do I have to do to get some privacy? Helga glanced around, being careful of her every move. Gerald and Phoebe had shifted their legs, so Helga was free to move, to a small extent. The tables at the bowling alley were all round, and instead of four separate legs, they had one leg in the middle with a wide base for support. Helga wrapped herself around the leg to stay as far away from everyone as possible. With Lila and Arnold at the table as well, Helga was surrounded.

Why are all four of them over here? Shouldn't one of them be bowling right now? She kept looking around for an opening, anything. Her eyes passed over Arnold's legs. Hmm, come to think of it, I've never really noticed his legs before. She gave herself a quick slap. Don't even start down that road right now, you need to stay alert!

Lila tried to keep the conversation at the table interesting. "So, how long have you two been…you know…"

Phoebe and Gerald both stuttered in a failed attempt to respond. "Well, you know, we haven't exactly been going out, you know? I mean it's not like we're a couple or anything, you know? I mean…you know?"

"Is something wrong, Gerald?"

Gerald's embarrassment was painfully obvious; his dark skin tone did nothing to cover up his blushing. "No, Phoebe, everything's fine, I'm just going to go check on those nachos real quick." With that he bolted from the table.

"I'm ever so sorry, Phoebe. I didn't know you guys weren't—"

"No, Lila, I actually appreciate that. Gerald always has a hard time admitting how he feels about me. He thinks he has to act cool and never talk about it, so I like it when someone shakes him up."

Arnold kept his eyes down at the food while the girls talked about Gerald. At least some people can get who they want around here, he thought in reference to his best bud. Just wish I could get Lila to be the same way. But then something startled him from his thoughts. "Did one of you just kick me?"

"I'm ever so certain I didn't Arnold."

Phoebe denied as well with a shake of her head.

"Well, something hit me."

"Well, it wasn't one of us—hey, what'd you do that for?"

"What? I didn't kick you, Phoebe."

"Arnold, you accused us of kicking, and we didn't, so don't kick us back."

"But I didn't—"

"Look, I'm ever so sure this is all just a little mix-up—hey, now who kicked me?"

The three of them began arguing amongst themselves. Worked like a charm, thought Helga as she scurried through the opening where Gerald had been sitting. Old Betsy had the force of a kick behind her blows, no doubt about it. Safely under an adjacent table, she went back to work on the nachos.

Gerald came back to a dead silent table. "Geez, what happened here?"

"I was just getting up to bowl." Arnold headed down onto the lane. Still bitter about the argument, his concentration wasn't at its best. He picked up the ball and went to begin his approach. The ball slipped off his hand in his backswing and landed behind him with a loud thud. The table broke out in laughter, Gerald the loudest as the girls tried to control their giggling. Underneath the adjacent table, it was all Helga could do to keep her sides from splitting.

"Hey, the holes are too big! And I've got some grease on my fingers from the fries!" Arnold picked the ball up and chucked it onto the lane. It veered right and barely caught the tenpin on its way to the gutter.

"Arnold, don't worry about it!" as Gerald fought back the laughing. "I mean it's not like the object of the game is to actually hit the pins!" Void of any more insults, Gerald trailed off as he went into another fit of laughter. Phoebe and Lila held back their giggles, but it was still apparent they were enjoying the show as much as Gerald.

Helga, however, had reached her limit. She was holding her hands over her mouth, trying with all her will not to break her cover with a loud guffaw. I've got to get away from here; this is too much! She slipped out from under the table and tried to walk away unnoticed.

"Oh, why hello, Helga!" Lila had spotted Helga walking away.

Okay, Helga, play it cool. Just think of something. "Oh, hey Lila, Pheebs, Tall Hair Boy."

Gerald saw what Helga was holding as she turned to face them. "Hey, where'd you get the nachos?"

"What, these?" Quick, excuse! "Uh, I was just bringing them over to you. Here you go." She set the nachos down in front of Gerald.

"'Bringing them to me?' Why are you bringing me my nachos?"

"Uh…" Great excuse, Helga, now cover for it! "I brought them to you 'cause I work here, doi!"

"You work here? Who hires a ten-year-old girl to serve food at a bowling alley?"

"Okay, so I don't "work" here, per say, I just kind of come in and help out when they're busy."

Gerald glanced around at that comment and couldn't count more than ten other people in the building. He was about to continue his line of questioning when Helga bolted for the kitchen. She ducked in and checked to see if they were still looking. They had already gone back to chatting.

"Geez, one minute they're putting me though questioning, and the next they forget they were even talking to me! What a bunch of idiots! And especially Arnold, he's shooting himself in the foot with Lila. He's trying so hard, and nothing ever works! What a poor sap, what a maroon!" Normally this would have been followed by a change of tone and the standard "and yet," but the laughter came back. It was the most pathetic display she'd seen in quite some time. She headed back to the arcade, chuckling as she went.

Arnold was up again. They were in the middle of the third game, and Lila was ruling the day with the granny ball. She had just fallen short of 200 in her first two games, and looked to be on track for it yet again. Gerald and Phoebe weren't quite as good, but on the other hand didn't compare to Arnold. He had shot 65 twice at this point, and was, needless to say, not in the best of moods. Unable to shake frustration, he went to the line and hurled the ball down the lane as hard as he could. The ball went straight up the middle of the lane and smashed through the pins leaving a 7-10 split.

"Man, Arnold, the Devil's Bed Posts! What's wrong with you today?"

Arnold frowned at Gerald as he caught sight of Lila at the table still talking to Phoebe. She's not even watching me. Why'd she come if all she was just going to sit and talk to someone else?

Helga was again watching, this time from behind the front desk. "Boy, he really looks miserable." She wanted to have another laugh at his expense, but for some reason she couldn't. "I enjoy seeing people in agony as much as the next person, why am I not laughing?" She watched him go up and toss the ball at the impossible split. The ball rolled toward the left side and fell into the gutter. She sighed as a depressed look came over her face, resembling that of Arnold's at the moment.

"If I'm not laughing at him, something's wrong. It's just not right, he shouldn't be like this." Helga then glared at Lila. "It's all because of her. She's got him on a leash and now she's yanking on it, tearing him up on the inside in ways I can only imagine." She stood up tall. "I can't let her do this to him! I must release him from her evil clutches!"

"Hey, kid! Get outta here!"

Helga jumped as the manager came back to the desk. She smiled at him apologetically and headed toward the front of the building. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the foursome walking back to the desk with their shoes. Catching another glimpse of Arnold, she went outside and hid around a corner.

"Okay, let's plan this out for once. I'll tail the four of them, and as soon as the other three are gone, I'll just walk up and bump into him like I always do and take it from there."

The doors opened as she finished planning out her moves. The four came within an audible distance.

"Well, that was ever so much fun."

"Yeah, I'll bet you had a good time. 218, how'd you do that?"

"Oh, it was nothing, Gerald. I just did what felt comfortable to me."

"Yeah, sure. Hey, who's up for Slausen's?"

"I'd like to, Gerald, but I really need to be getting home."

Gerald nodded at Lila's answer and turned to Phoebe. "Well, I'm up for it, Gerald. I have no plans."

Another nod, accompanied by a smile. He then turned to Arnold, who was staring at the ground. "What do you say, buddy?"

"Huh? Oh, I think I'll pass."

"Well, okay, I guess. See you later, then." Gerald extended his hand for their secret handshake, but Arnold had already begun walking away. "Man, I don't remember the last time he was like this."

"What ever do you mean?"

"Come on, Lila. Even you know that Arnold's got a reputation for being Mr. Optimism, always smiling and looking on the bright side no matter how bad things get for him."

"That doesn't mean he never gets upset, does it?"

"I have to agree with Gerald on this one, Lila. I don't ever remember him being this down. That's not to say he never gets upset, but he usually doesn't let it drag him down to the extent we've seen today."

"Gee, you think maybe one of us should go talk to him?"

Gerald and Phoebe glanced at each other at Lila's suggestion. Neither of them wanted to talk to him, and they both knew it probably wasn't a good idea to send Lila after him for consolation. Gerald turned to Lila to decline, and saw the worried look in her eyes. You know, she looks like she's actually concerned about him. Gerald changed his mind, hoping that things wouldn't backfire. "That sounds like a good idea. Why don't you go and talk to him, Lila, see if you can bring him around?"

"Okay, I'll try. I'll see you guys later!" With that, Lila followed after Arnold, who was about a block ahead of her. Phoebe and Gerald turned and walked in the opposite direction towards the ice cream shop.

"Gerald, I don't think that was a good idea. I think we should have given Arnold some space."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, but I thought she was worth a shot."

Arnold was about a block from the bowling alley. He walked with his hands in his pockets and his head down; as was the case, he didn't catch sight of the pink bow sticking out at the next corner.

"There he is, Football Head at 1:00. Now, as soon as he gets close enough, I'll step out and run into him like I always do." Helga was ready to put her plan into action when she spotted someone running up behind Arnold. "I swear, of all the people!" She ducked in a corner store as Arnold came passing by.

"Arnold! Arnold, can I talk to you?"

He glanced at Lila, then back at the ground. "Lila, I really don't feel like talking right now."

"Please, Arnold, I can tell something's bothering you."

How did you ever guess? At least now she's paying attention to me.

"Look, Arnold, my house is just a couple of blocks away. Why don't you walk there with me and tell me all about it?"

"Fine." They crossed the street and headed toward Lila's house. "So did Gerald and Phoebe send you over here or something?"

"Well, I suggested one of us go—"

"So they sent you." He went silent again, dragging his feet as he walked.

"Arnold, was it something I did?"

After another brief pause, he began. "Actually, yeah, you had a big part in it, Lila. I mean, I invited you to come along with us today, and you ignored me the whole time. You just sat and talked with Gerald and Phoebe. On top of that, you go and embarrass me when I'm trying to help you improve your form, and laugh at me every time I screw up. And—"

"Wait, slow down, Arnold, I think you've got things a bit mixed up. I wasn't trying to ignore you; you kept sulking around because you weren't bowling well, so I figured I'd give you some space."

"Yeah, thanks for all the space while you were laughing at me."

"I'm ever so sorry, Arnold, but you did look pretty ridiculous up there, chucking the ball as hard as you could into the gutter."

"At least I wasn't bowling like an old lady!"

"Excuse me? I told you, that's just how I bowl! The scores speak for themselves, Arnold!"

"Still, you didn't have to make me feel like I was wasting my time on you!"

"Since when were you 'wasting your time' on me? Did you think this was some kind of date?"

"To be honest, I kinda did."

"Arnold, need I remind you—"

He knew what was coming, and cut her off as he further raised the tone of his voice. "Save your breath, I know! You don't like me like me; you just like me. I still don't get it, Lila! Can't you tell that I like you like you?"

"Arnold, I know that, but it doesn't matter how you feel about me, the fact remains that I don't like you like you, end of story!"

"But Lila—"

"Look, maybe we should keep a safe distance from each other for a while, okay? Goodbye, Arnold." With that, she stepped into her house and slammed the door in his face.

More author's notes: First off, I am not a Lila-hater! I will admit, however, that I do spend most of the time telling the story from Helga's point of view, so you can call me a Helga-lover if you like.

I'm almost done with chapter four, and don't worry, it picks up right where this chapter left off. Be sure to check back in a week and thanks for reading.


	4. The G Stands for Genuine

Author's notes: As of now, I have no official update day. First it was Tuesday, then Monday, but I'm sick of waiting to post a completed chapter for no reason! Rookie mistake, I guess.

Two things before I begin: First, you can get Author Alerts for my story if you want now, since I just got the Support Services (which also means my story's ad-free! Think of the precious seconds you'll save not having to wait for the ads to load!) Secondly, "Married" was on CBS Saturday morning (9/20/03). I couldn't believe they actually aired it, I'd never seen it before then! (Great episode, by the way.) Now I know most of you are screaming, "Big deal! I'm waiting for them to show [insert rarely seen episode here]!" Right now it looks like CBS is our best bet at seeing some of these rare episodes again. Who knows, maybe they'll show "Curly's Girl?" (Sure, right after the Jungle Movie.)

Back to my story, I'd like to thank all my reviewers, especially my repeaters (Helgagurl46, kim, fantasymichelle14). There's more motivation to write when you've got a "fan base," so to speak. And J.B., you're the first one to comment on the title's connection with the Led Zeppelin song. I chose it partly for the title itself, and partly for the lyrics, especially the line, "you will be mine by takin' our time."

Okay, here's chapter four, and it came out _nothing_ like I originally planned, but in a very good way. It's a lot longer than I thought it would be to say the least. And I changed the end of it three or four times. Plus, I decided to _italicize_ all the character thoughts to make things easier to understand. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Hey Arnold!_

Helga peered around the corner from the end of the block. Two houses down, she caught sight of a young man standing by the front door. Even from the distance between her and the boy, the anger could be read on his face. He turned and faced the street, putting his head down and grabbing his hair in frustration. After this, he took his hat off and twisted it in his hands, as if he wanted to tear it in half. The whole time it looked as if he was ready to scream, yell out every obscenity in the book, but he never did, as if he couldn't find the right words to use.

"Wow. I don't know what she did, but he looks like he's ready to go off the deep end. He almost reminds me of Curly." She realized what she just said. "So then do I really want to go talk to him now? I mean, even if I wasn't afraid to talk to him like I always am, I'd probably better keep my distance from him now anyway. Who knows what he might do?"

As Helga continued weighing her options, Arnold brought his temper under control enough to put his hat back on and begin walking home. It was almost a seven-block walk; he figured he might as well cover some ground while he let off some steam.

"Oh no, he's moving! What should I do? I don't think I can pull this off right now; I should probably go home and avoid him until tomorrow. But then again, how many opportunities do I need before I finally do something? No, he's too mad to try it right now. There's always tomorrow, I'll just—"

"Hey, kid! Can't you read the sign?"

Startled, Helga turned around to face the owner of the store she had been hiding by. She followed his pointing finger to the sign: "No loitering—especially kids!"

"Oh, sorry about that, I was just—" She backed into someone as she was babbling at the storeowner. _Uh-oh, please, be anyone but him!_

"Sorry, Helga," came the familiar response.

_Guess that ends the debate, now I have to talk to him! Maybe I should just tell him off like I always do? No, better not, he's still fuming. Okay, just be calm and polite and try to get away from him._

"That's okay, Arnold, it was my fault." She paused to let him continue speaking, as he usually would when he ran into her like that. Instead, he turned and kept walking without another word.

Initially, Helga was relieved, but then, for some reason, she felt insulted_. He always stopped to talk to me when he did that before, why didn't he do it now? I don't care how upset that little shrimp is; no one walks away from Helga G. Pataki!_

_Well, doi! You're usually the one doing the walking!_

Helga ended her internal conversation and took off after Arnold, making sure she didn't catch up until she was ready. Being as observant as she is, Helga was noticing all the subtleties that gave her a better idea of Arnold's mood. He was walking at a slightly faster pace than normal, but Helga could also tell his posture was different. Usually he carried himself tall and proud, with his head in the clouds. But now his head was down, and he looked like he was lugging the entire world on his shoulders.

She began whispering to herself, trying to find something she could say that wouldn't put him off. "So, how's it going, Hair Boy? Hey, I couldn't help but notice you were kind of getting the cold shoulder back there at the bowling alley." _No good, he'd wonder how I could have observed that much. Then again, things are usually pretty obvious when it comes to reading him._ She glanced up to see if she'd gained on him. Instead, he'd gained on her and rounded the corner already. _Geez, someone's in a hurry! Slow down, bucko, what's the rush?_ She ran to the corner and went to peer around, but instead ran into Mr. Green.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Helga, I was just closing up the store and—"

"No, I'm fine, happens all the time!"

_We're at the meat shop already? But that means…_sure enough, up ahead she could see Arnold was almost on his stoop. Helga ran toward the boarding house, her mind racing along with her. _There's no time now, just go up to him and talk! You're an expert at making stuff up on the spot!_

Arnold opened the door, and was greeted by Grandpa. "Hey, Short Man! Looks like you got home just in time, they just put out a flash flood warning!" He sulked past Grandpa into the house.

Phil stepped out onto the stoop and glanced up at the sky. It seemed like the clouds had appeared out of thin air. As he made his way down the steps to get a better view, the rain hit like a wall of water. It was pouring in a matter of seconds. "Whoa, that was quick! Better get back in the house!" He turned to go back in and caught sight of her.

She was speechless and motionless. Helga stood about twenty feet away from the stoop, caught in Phil's vision like a deer caught in headlights. She wanted to run, but she was frozen in fear. _Go back in the house, don't talk to me, don't talk to Arnold, just go in and forget you saw me standing here!_

"Hey, aren't you one of Arnold's little friends?"

She tried to blurt out "no" but she couldn't find the air. For that matter, she couldn't breathe. Helga hadn't been this scared since Phil had taken possession of her locket the year prior. She had never felt comfortable going in the boarding house, since she was usually sneaking around it trying to retrieve something that threatened to reveal her secret.

"Hello? Aren't you coming in?" Phil was standing in the doorframe, motioning Helga to come in the house. She was about to turn and run, but then she realized what she was standing in. The rain was falling pretty hard at this point, and what if it started to hail? _Looks like I've got no choice;_ she ran in the house.

"About time you got in here, I thought were gonna stay out there and take a shower."

"Yeah, the thought had crossed my mind." Her mind was racing again as she blurted out the first thing she thought. _Just humor the old man, and try to keep a low profile until the rain stops._ Phil grabbed a towel out of a nearby closet and handed it to Helga. "Oh, thanks."

"Aw, it's no trouble. It's not like I'd let a pretty girl stand out in the rain."

Under all other circumstances, this compliment would have set Helga off like a Fourth of July firework finale. But she couldn't help but laugh. As she stood in the entranceway drying her hair, she was realizing her situation. _I'm in Arnold's house. On top of that, I was invited in! And his grandpa's standing here calling me "pretty!"_ She began to lose control of her laughter; it was so surreal and unimaginable…

"I'm sorry, was it something I said?"

Helga put her hand up to Phil and tried to bring her laughter under control. "No…it's just…I don't hear that very often." She handed the towel back to him.

"Well then, I suppose you'll probably be heading up to Arnold's room then."

The laughter ceased abruptly. "Arnold's room?"

"Well, yeah. You're one of his little friends, aren't you?"

"Me? Uh…well, I guess that's one way you could put it…"

"Okay, then, off you go! I'll be up to let you two know when dinner's ready."

"Dinner?" That familiar feeling of panic was creeping back into Helga.

"Well, I just assumed, since you can't go anywhere in this weather you were going to stay and eat."

She was ready to nix the whole thing and run out the door when she remembered what awaited her at home. Olga was making some kind of Eastern European meal consisting of ingredients Helga had never heard of (which was usually the case with anything Olga made). Suddenly dinner at Arnold's sounded pretty good, even if she had to go through the torment of being in his presence for a substantial length of time. "Hey, you know that sounds pretty good when you mention it, Gramps."

"Wonderful! I'll go let Pookie know we need to set another place at the table then, uh…what was your name, anyway?"

"My name? Oh, it's Helga."

"Helga, of course! You're the one Arnold's always telling me about how you pick on him all the time and never really give him a reason why you do it and I told him once that it sounded like you liked him!"

Helga's heart skipped a beat. "Wh-wh-what did you tell him?"

Phil laughed at the scared look on her face. "Oh, don't you worry, he didn't think it was true!"

Helga gave him a fake laugh of relief.

"But you really do like him, don't you?"

Her face went pale again.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Now don't worry, I won't tell him, it's more fun watching you youngsters squirm. Ah, I remember when I was at that awkward age of crushes. Heddy Lamar was her name. I couldn't have told her how I felt if…"

Helga stood at the base of the stairs and watched Phil go off into the kitchen. She let out the breath she'd been holding during his last spiel. With him gone, her eyes turned up the stairs, which she began to slowly climb. _And just how am I going to explain this one to him? Yeah, Arnold, I just happened to be outside your house when it began to pour rain and your grandpa sent me up here._

She arrived at his room. _A few short steps and I shall once again set foot on the holiest of ground!_ Feeling every emotion from excitement and anticipation to unbridled fear, she knocked on his door. The answer came, "I'm not hungry, thank you!"

Helga had already dived under the attic stairs to hide when she heard his answer. _He's not coming out? But isn't he going to come out and ask me why I'm here?_ The resentful feeling she felt when he didn't talk to her earlier returned. _That's it! No one gives me the silent treatment twice in the same day!_ She approached his door again ready to barge in and give him a piece of her mind.

"Eleanor!" Arnold's grandma spotted Helga as she was exiting the bathroom. "Come downstairs, Mrs. Roosevelt, dinner begins in five minutes!"

Helga followed along obediently. As they went downstairs, Helga realized what she'd almost done. _I almost walked right into his room! What the heck was I thinking? I have to keep a level head here, or else…_

Her thoughts stopped as she entered the dining room. The tenants had already convened there and took immediate notice of Helga as she entered. "Who's the kid with the one eyebrow?"

"Oskar!"

"What, I was making an observation! She's only got one eyebrow, you don't see that very often around here!"

"Never mind him, sweetie; what's your name?"

"It's Helga."

"Hello, Helga. I'm Susie, and these are the other boarders, Ernie, Mr. Hyunh, and of course, my husband."

"Dinner is served!" Gertie brought in a huge tray of lasagna and garlic bread as Phil walked in from his "office."

"Pookie, I can't believe it, you made something normal that I can actually digest!"

"Yes, it looks delicious!"

Helga sat silent, her mouth watering. _I hit the jackpot here, not only do I get out of eating Mary Sunshine's mystery platter, but I showed up on the one night where Arnold's grandma cooked a normal meal! Wait a minute, Olga! I'd better call to let them know I'm here, even if they're not going to notice anyway._

Helga excused herself to use the phone. She picked up the phone out in the hall, but she didn't get a dial tone.

"I know what I'm talking about Arnold. You're swimming upstream with her, man."

_Gerald?_

"I can't help it, Gerald. It's frustrating and hopeless and everything, but I can't stop thinking about her."

_And Arnold? Wait a minute, that means Arnold's on the phone right now!_ Helga put her hand over the receiver and kept eavesdropping.

"I don't get you, man. How many clear signals does she have to send you?"

"I don't know! I guess the message isn't getting through to me. I mean, I hear her tell me that she doesn't like me like me all the time, but it's like it doesn't register in the part of my brain where I like her like her."

"Come again? Could you put that in English, Arnold?"

"Actually, Gerald, I can't. I'm still kind of upset over the whole thing. I'll talk to later, okay?"

"Okay, Arnold. You call again if you need anything, buddy."

"I will. Thanks, Gerald."

Two clicks on the line and the call was over. Helga placed the phone back on the hook and forgot about calling her house. _What an airhead! Even after everything he put up with today, he still likes her likes her! I have to fix this, I must—_

Her stomach interrupted her thoughts. _Okay, it can wait, I'm starving!_

Arnold woke up to yelling coming from downstairs. He glanced at the clock on his desk, 9:20. _What's going on down there?_ The house rules always read "no loud noises after 9pm." He opened his door and walked down into the hallway.

"I can't believe he kicked out of that move!"

"You'd better believe it, sister! The champ's undefeated, never been pinned! And he ain't going down tonight, neither!"

Helga, Ernie and Phil were crowded around the TV watching wrestling. The night had been a blast so far for Helga. The dinner was great, and after dinner Phil got out the Parcheesi board. The game was strangely familiar to Helga; they were always playing the game at night while she was hiding up in Arnold's room for whatever reason. She whaled on them for four straight games, and then she suggested wrestling when the Kokoshkas and Mr. Hyunh left for their rooms. A commercial break came in the middle of the match, and the group stopped yelling at the TV for a moment.

"Man, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun with one of Arnold's friends! How come you haven't come over before?"

"Cut me some slack, Ernie, I live farther away than most of the kids."

"Well, that's not a problem. You know we could always bring you over here in the Packard."

"Aw, you don't have to bother, Gramps. I can just take the bus."

"Yeah, well either way, you make sure you keep coming back here, kid."

"You know, I think I just might do that." _Not bad, old girl. Three hours in the house and you're already friends with every one them._

"Grandpa? I heard some yelling and I wondered what was going on. And who's that sitting next to you?"

From the back of the couch, Arnold had seen Grandpa and then noticed something pink sticking up next to him.

"Well, there you are, Short Man! I thought you were going to stay up there all night! Hey, come in here and say hi to your little friend!"

His "little friend" had almost fainted in her seat. Her boarding house fantasy had quickly returned to reality. _You're in Arnold's house, doi! How long did you expect to stay here without him noticing you?_ She was ready to let Old Betsy remove her from consciousness and avoid the whole situation when Arnold sat down next to her. "Helga?"

"…Hi." She sat paralyzed in fear. A quick slap would have snapped her out of it, but she didn't want to do it with everyone watching.

Phil whispered to Ernie, "Let's give these two a minute alone."

Ernie nodded and stood up with Phil. "Well, I'd better be turning in, got a big one to knock down tomorrow."

"Yeah, guess it's about that time too, I guess. It stopped raining a while ago, I'll bring the Packard around to take you home, Helga."

Helga didn't respond. On top of the fear was now some anger directed at the two adults for leaving her alone with Arnold. She bit her lip as Arnold started to talk to her. "So why are you here?"

"It was… raining… your grandpa… invited me in… dinner… Parcheesi… wrestling… you know…"

"Helga, are you OK?"

She eyed him and noticed he was looking off to the side in the same manner as her. She seized the opportunity and slapped her face.

"Of course I'm okay, Football Head! Your grandparents took care of me and I'm just fine, no thanks to you! You were the life of the party, staying up in your room for hours on end!"

"Well, I had a pretty rough day today."

"Let me guess, did Ms. Perfect break your heart again or something?"

"How did you know?"

_Looks like I'm having the talk with him. Okay, play it by ear._ "I'm a very astute observer."

"Was that what you were doing from behind the control desk?"

"What? Oh that, I was up there making sure nothing happened while the manager ran an errand."

"Sure, Helga."

"Hey, can we stay on subject here, Arnoldo? Did Lila shoot you down again or not?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but she did."

"Guess you're pretty upset then, huh?"

"Yeah."

_There's your cue, now start in with the mushy stuff!_ "Gee, I'm sorry, Arnold."

"Thanks, but I don't need you to feel sorry for me. It's my fault, I keep bringing it on myself."

She went to continue her act, but she took notice of his tone. _He's right, but more importantly, he's being honest with himself. I think I should be honest with him, too._ "Anything I can do to help?"

He looked up at her in disbelief. The whole situation hit him in the same way situations were hitting Helga all day. _Helga Pataki is in my house asking if she can help me out; something has to be wrong here._ He then saw in her eyes that she meant it. "No, that's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." The Packard horn sounded out front. "There's Grandpa, you'd better get going."

"Okay. I'll see you later, Arnold."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

Helga headed for the front door, proud of herself. _I did it! I was honest with Arnold! I talked with him like a normal person! I made him feel better! I am so good!_

"Oh, Helga? One more thing."

She turned back with a questioning look on her face. _I'm trying to leave on a high note, Hair Boy; you'd better not screw up the moment._

"I, uh, just wanted to thank you for your concern."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled at her with a coy look on his face. "You know what I mean, Helga."

_Oh no, he's onto me! I knew I couldn't act nice without him bringing it up!_ "Look, bucko, don't start getting ideas like I'm turning over a new leaf or something. I was just making sure you weren't going to start crying in front of me; I wouldn't have been able to stomach something that pathetic."

With that, she marched down the stoop in true form as Arnold closed the door behind her. "Whatever you say, Helga."

Big Bob was asleep in his chair, the Wheel on TV as Helga came in the house. He woke up at the sound of her shutting the door. "Is that you, Helga?"

_There's a bad omen, he's calling me by my name._ "Yes, Bob."

"What are you doing coming home at a quarter to ten on a school night? Your mother and I were worried sick about you, and your sister had to throw out what you weren't here to eat!"

"I was at a friend's house when it started to rain, Dad! I couldn't go anywhere!"

"Well, you could have at least called! Helga? Hey, where do you think you're going?" Bob now stood at the base of the stairs as Helga was reaching the door to her room.

"I was going to get ready for bed. After all, it is a school night."

"Oh, giving me the smart mouth, eh? That's it, go to your room! I don't want to hear a peep out of you the whole night, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Bob," as she slammed her door. She took her shoes off and lay down on her bed. The conversation with her father was quickly forgotten; total calm swept over her as she recalled her conversation with Arnold earlier. "I actually pulled it off. I was able to talk to Arnold without getting into a fight… well almost, I did tell him off at the end… but still! I wonder if this means I'm almost ready?" A familiar scene began to play over in her head as it had before hundreds of times, and a huge smile came over her face as she faded into sleep.

Phil came out of the upstairs bathroom and was about to head off to bed when he noticed the lights were still on in Arnold's room. He went up and knocked, "You still up, Short Man?"

"Yeah, Grandpa, come in." Arnold was lying on his bed, staring up into space with a glazed look in his eyes.

"Something on your mind?"

"I was just thinking about what happened today."

"Oh, really? I heard from your little friend that you had some problems with another girl over at the bowling alley."

"What? Helga told you that?"

"Oh, yeah, she told me all about it while we were playing Parcheesi. Said you were pretty upset."

"Yeah. I kind of still am."

"I see. So what did it? You bowl bad?"

"Yeah."

"And you were embarrassed?"

"Yeah."

"And the worse you bowled, the harder you tried and the worse you stunk up the place?"

"How do you always know about these things ahead of time? Did you have a day like that once?"

"Me? Heavens no, I would have quit after one frame! I always recognize my limitations! Of course that wouldn't apply to bowling in my case, I've carried a 180 average all my life. Anyways Arnold, the point is you just need to find something you can do with this girl where you don't have these sort of problems."

"But I've been trying everything, Grandpa! I've taken just about every approach I could think of with her and I still can't get her to like me like me."

"Hey, there's always tomorrow."

"I'm not so sure, she told me we should stay away from each other for a while."

"Really? Well that changes everything! Sounds to me like it's time to give up on her Arnold, she hates you!"

"But Grandpa—"

"No 'buts', Arnold. You need to start looking towards the future, find someone else you can pine after."

"I don't know any other girls that I'm interested in."

"Sure you do! What about your little friend that was just here a little while ago?"

"Helga? Grandpa, I thought we had this discussion about her last year. Don't you remember when I kept coming home with feathers on my pants and paint on my sweater?"

"Strangely enough, I do remember that. Hold on, you mean that girl was the one you were having all the problems with?"

"Uh-huh."

"And she's the one who's always jumping rope across the street?"

"Yep."

"Was she also the one who came crashing through the ceiling that one morning?"

"Helga crashed through our ceiling? When did this happen?"

"Come to think of it, I'm not all that sure of it now. I might be thinking too fast again and mixing things up. Look, we can talk about this more later, we should both be getting to bed."

"All right. Good night, Grandpa."

"'Night, Short Man."

Phil turned off the lights and stepped out of Arnold's room. Arnold sighed and went back to staring at the stars. "Grandpa's right, I should probably just give up on her already. Still…" Arnold glanced across the dark room and looked at his picture of Lila, taped to his computer monitor, illuminated in the moonlight. As hard as he tried, he couldn't shake her from his thoughts as he fell asleep.

More author's notes: I originally ended the chapter when Helga left Arnold's house, but when I got the idea for chapter five, I decided to advance the story up to this point, and you'll see why in the next chapter. It's about halfway done, but I should be able to finish it off in time to post it next week. Thanks for reading.


	5. This Is Your Love Life

Author's notes: Your reviews are truly flattering; thank you very much. Let me address J.B. by saying I'm glad you noticed me giving Helga's line to Arnold and so forth. That was intentional; I wanted it to seem like their personalities were reversed. And as far as the "You okay, Arnold?" line goes, I was borrowing enough of that conversation from "Arnold and Lila" as it was, so I left that line out. But still, point taken! I'd also like to thank Helgagurl46 for "spoiling" the next chapter. It's probably my fault for giving too many hints in my author's notes (and you all would have guessed it anyway).

Speaking of the next chapter, here it is. Gwynn mentioned it would be interesting if I told more of the story from Arnold's point of view, and I thought I'd oblige in this chapter. As you all know, this is a dream chapter, which I think opens up a lot of possibilities, both good and bad. Some of you may not like this chapter, and I hope I'll hear why if you don't. There are certain things I don't like about it myself, but I want to know what everyone else thinks and see if we dislike it the same way.

By the way, the PG rating came about from the intense dialogue near the end of this chapter. It may or may not be enough to earn a PG, but I upped it just to be safe.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Hey Arnold!,_ nor do I own _A Christmas Carol _(you'll see why I put that)

The bed started to feel cool and damp as Arnold passed into sleep. He rolled over and rested his hands by his side. He let his body go into a state of total relaxation, letting the weight of his body sink into the soft earth. Moments later, he stirred, feeling at the blades of grass between his fingers.

"Blades of grass?" Arnold immediately sat up and was hit by a blast of water from a sprinkler head. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the sidewalk, fleeing the water's path. Wiping the water from his face, he looked around to ascertain where he was.

It appeared he woke up in the middle of a vacant lot, more familiarly known to the neighborhood kids as Gerald Field. The water came from a sprinkler system the gang had discovered about a month before when Eugene tripped over one of the heads while chasing down a fly ball. The sprinklers didn't work, though, since the city didn't have the water turned on.

Arnold finished drying himself off. "I must have sleepwalked over here or something." He looked around and realized it was the middle of the night and he probably wasn't very safe standing on a city street. Then again, there wasn't a soul to be seen or heard, with the exception of a shady figure walking toward him in a trench coat and fedora hat.

"Stop right there! Don't think for one second that I don't see through that disguise!"

The female voice he anticipated answered, "Disguise? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on! You used it before when I was trying to save the neighborhood!"

"I still don't follow you."

"Helga, please!"

"Helga? Wait a minute, Arnold, I think you have me mistaken for someone else." With that, the shady figure joined Arnold in the glow of the streetlight and removed her hat.

"Aha! I knew it was you—" Arnold recognized the face at first, but when the pigtails and pink bow failed to spring forth from under the hat, he did a double take and realized whom he was really speaking to. "Hilda?"

"So you remember me?"

"I guess I do, but weren't you in one of my dreams?"

"I believe so."

"Huh? How would you know you were in my dream?"

"Because that's where I came from, doi!"

"But if you're only in my dreams, that must mean…am I dreaming right now?"

Hilda tapped him on the nose, "Bingo."

Arnold stared at her, "I'm confused."

Hilda laughed at hearing the famous line of the dense boy. "Why am I not surprised? Walk with me, I'll explain on the way." The two of them began walking down the empty street.

"Okay, Hilda, you can start by telling me why I was sleeping in the middle of a baseball field."

"I needed an interesting setting that would cause you to wake up."

"But if I'm dreaming right now, how could you have woken me up?"

"Because you were asleep! Haven't you ever had a dream within a dream?"

"No, I haven't. Anyway, I thought those were only used as a joke on comedy shows."

Another tap on the nose, "Two for two, Arnold."

He stopped walking for a moment, his confusion growing. "Hilda, you are not making any sense whatsoever."

She laughed again as she kept walking. "Arnold, quit stressing out! You're having a dream, there's no need to think so hard and worry about everything making sense! Now keep up!"

Arnold jogged back to her side. "So are you going to explain everything to me, or do I have to keep asking questions?"

"It's up to you. After all, this is your dream."

"Fine then, I've got another question. How does a figment of my imagination plan out one of my dreams with a setting and everything ahead of time?"

"It doesn't."

"What doesn't?"

"A figment of your imagination doesn't plan this out."

"I was referring to you!"

"I'm not a figment of your imagination."

"Oh, really? Well you can't be real if you're in my dream, so what are you then?"

"I _am_ your imagination."

That answer caused him to stumble and almost fall. "Another answer that makes no sense!"

"I gave you a choice, explanation or questioning, you asked a question, and I answered it."

His patience was wearing thin. "Okay, then I'm done asking questions; just give me the answers."

"No problem." They continued walking, Arnold listening intently. The two of them walked in silence for a block and a half.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"Was I supposed to say something?"

"I thought you were. I asked for the answers, and you said, 'No problem.'"

"Right." Hilda continued on without another word.

Arnold had enough. He grabbed her with both hands and looked her in the eye, "That's it! I'm sick of you giving me the run around! Now answer this question for me, straight up, no funny business! Why are you walking me down an empty city street, and where are we going? And if you don't give me a good answer, I'm going to go jump off a building or something and wake myself up!"

"I wouldn't recommend that. I've arranged things so you won't wake up until we've covered all the bases here. You jump off a building, you're going to spend the rest of the dream on a stretcher."

"I can't believe this! It's like you're holding me hostage in my mind!"

A smug smile came across Hilda's face at that remark. "Hey, I hold a lot of power as your subconscious."

"My subconscious?"

"Yes, Arnold, I'll explain this much to you. I am an embodiment of your inner thoughts. I took this form so that you could have a conversation with yourself."

"It all makes sense now!"

"It does?"

"Yeah, and my grandpa's never lied a day in his life."

Hilda scowled at him. "You know, you've got a really sarcastic side to you. It only shows when you get upset."

"Yeah? How would you know? Oh, that's right, I forgot, you and I are the same person!"

"Knock it off! You want me to tell you what this whole dream is about or not?"

"What's that? You're ready to give me a straight answer? Well, I'm listening!"

Hilda paused for a moment, cleared her throat, and began. "This dream is meant to examine recent problems you've been experiencing in the love department."

"Is this about what happened with Lila today?"

"That's part of it, Arnold. In fact, that's what triggered this dream to take place. But it's about more than that. We're going to take a look at a few girls you've had any romantic interest in, past, present and possibly, future."

"Would you happen to be on that list?"

"No. We'll save the 'crushes on girls in your dreams' topic for another time. We're sticking to real women here, Arnold."

"Okay then, where do we start?" _If I have to be here, I might as well humor her…or is it humor myself—_

"Either one works."

"What? How did you?"

"I'm you, so I hear all your thoughts. For that matter, I _am_ your thoughts."

"Can we lay down a ground rule? For instance, can you pretend that you're just Hilda and not this subcosmic being?"

"It's sub_conscious _being,and I suppose I can do that for you."

"Great. Now, where are we going first?"

"We're starting with the first girl you ever had a crush on, and by that I mean the 'real-deal' romantic kind, not the thing you had going with that exchange student in second grade."

He remembered who Hilda was referring to, a British girl who was in his class for a semester. She invited him to her exchange family's house everyday after school for afternoon tea. "Oh, her. That was some good tea."

"Hope that good mood carries over, because we've arrived at your first crush's house." Hilda gestured to the house they were standing beside. Arnold couldn't recognize it, an ordinary looking two-story brick house.

"Whose house is this?"

"How would I know? I live out in the country with your cousin, I don't know who the houses belong to around here."

"Right. I guess if I don't know whose house it is, neither of us do."

"Actually, you have been near it before. You just don't remember it."

"Really? So then whose house is it, then?"

"See for yourself. She should be waking up right about now."

Arnold realized at that moment it was mid-morning in his dream. _It was the middle of the night just a second ago, how did it get bright so fast? And how come I still haven't seen one other person this whole time?_

Hilda smirked while listening to Arnold's thoughts. "There she is, Arnold." She pointed to the second floor window of the house. Arnold looked up and tried to make her out. Through the light reflecting off the window, he could make out the silhouette. He saw a round head, resembling that of his mother's. As the girl shifted about, he saw her hair, a dark auburn covering most of her face and hanging down to her shoulders. _She must have just woken up,_ he thought. Finally, he noticed something else reflecting the sun's rays toward him.

"Hey, I know that smile. Those braces, they belong to…Ruth McDougal!"

"Correct. Your first romantic interest."

Arnold continued to watch her, and then suddenly felt a wave of fear sweep over him. "Won't she be a little suspicious of us standing here, watching her from the street?"

"She would if she could see us."

"Well, I think she can, we're in plain sight!" Arnold went to duck around a corner, but Hilda stepped in his path.

"Relax. I took care of it."

Arnold understood what she told him for the first time since the dream began, and relaxed. "Wow. That's convenient."

"Darn straight. We can't be worrying about whether or not these girls can see us. I've made us completely invisible, except to each other. But let's focus here, Arnold. I'm taking you to each of these girls so you can reflect on them individually."

"I see." He looked up at Ruth, who had now opened her window to catch the morning sea breeze. The open window improved Arnold's view, allowing him to look her right in the eye. "She still can't see me, right?"

"I know it seems like she's looking at you, but she's not. Trust me, you just happen to be in her line of sight."

He continued to stare into her eyes, his feelings for her swirling around in his head. _I used to like you, a lot. I spent every day watching you from across the playground._

"Arnold, I think it would work better if you spoke your thoughts out loud."

He turned to Hilda, remembering her "psychic" abilities. "Why?"

"Why not? I'll hear them anyway. Besides, you need to pretend you're telling these girls how you really feel, even if they can't see or hear you."

"All right." He looked back up at Ruth, who was now staring off toward the west, toward the sea. "Now I remember why I stopped liking her. I realized that I didn't exist to her. She never gave me the time of day."

"Arnold, speak _to_ her. Talk in the second person."

"Right. I made the right choice with you, Ruth. When I finally got you to go out with me, and I spent time with you, I realized you weren't worth my time."

Arnold paused for a little while, and Hilda spoke up, "Done already?"

"I don't really have a lot to say to her. I don't feel as strongly about her as I used to."

"That's all right, you don't have to give a long speech. Now let's discuss her for a second while she's still standing in the window. First off, can you point out some certain characteristics in her?"

"No, could you help me out?"

"What makes her a unique choice for you?"

Arnold stood in thought for a moment. "She's older than me."

"Good, that's one. And remember, she's not the only older girl you've been interested in."

"You're right. There was that girl Maria, and at the beach, that other girl, Summer."

"You wouldn't argue then that you've got a thing for older women."

"Well, I suppose…"

Hilda gave him a flirtatious smile. "Don't sell yourself short, Arnold. You're quite the ladies man."

Arnold blushed, while at the same time wondering why he did. _Can't I take a compliment from myself?_ "So I've got a thing for older women, big deal."

"You're right, no big deal. But there is one more thing you should recognize in Ruth before we move on to our next exhibit."

"And what would that be?"

"Notice any resemblance to someone else you might remember?"

Arnold stared up at Ruth again, taking in the picture as a whole. He then closed his eyes and entered deep thought, trying to find something.

"Any guesses, Arnold?"

His eyes blinked open again. "She looks like my mom."

"That would be it."

"I guess that whole saying about boys wanting a girl like their mother is true."

"Eh, it holds some water, I guess. Okay, we've spent more than enough time here. Let's move on."

Arnold took one last look up at Ruth before they started walking away. "I never had a chance with her. She's still pretty cute, though."

"Back to your normal optimistic self, I see." Hilda glanced at her watch. "Whoa, look at the time! We've used up most of the time in your dream already and we've still got two more girls to visit! Okay, I guess since we're running short on time I'll have to break the laws of physics."

"You already did, making us invisible."

"Hey, you're pretty sharp when you want to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hilda shook her head, "Never mind," snapped her fingers, and the two of them were instantly standing in front of another house.

"Is this the house I think it is?"

"Yes, but let me recap. We've talked about your love life past already. I lumped Ruth, Maria and Summer into one to save time for the other two. Right now, we're going to discuss your love life present."

"And my love life present would be Lila?"

Hilda went to give him the nose tap affirmation, but stopped upon noticing his reaction to being in front of Lila's house. He sounded dejected when he spoke Lila's name. "Arnold, I know this is probably bringing some difficult feelings to the surface, but this is how the dream goes. We're here to talk about her whether you want to or not."

He ignored Hilda and walked up the stoop. "I could have put my fist right through this door when she slammed it on me today. I'd never been so mad in my life."

"What did you do to make her so upset that she'd slam the door on you?"

"Don't play dumb with me, you know just as well as I do what happened."

"Arnold, you told me to just be Hilda, and Hilda wasn't there to see what took place, so you have to tell me about it."

He sighed in frustration. "Fine, you want to know why she did it? Because she thinks I'm a joke! She thought I looked like a fool at the bowling alley, and then she shot me down again!"

"What do you mean 'she shot you down?'"

"You know, as in I like her like her but she doesn't like me like me back. And for that matter, I'm not even sure if she likes me period at this point!"

"Hello? Is someone out there?" A voice came from behind the door.

Arnold jumped off the stoop and grabbed Hilda, whispering, "I thought you said we were invisible!"

"I never said anything about covering up your voice."

The door opened and Arnold froze in place.

"Arnold? What are you doing here?"

"Huh?" He turned and gave Hilda a sharp glare, "Hello, she can see me!"

"Of course she can! It's more interesting than a one-way conversation!"

"What? You can't do this! Can she see you?"

"Can't see me, can't hear me, nothing."

"Well, I can still see and hear you, and I'm going to use you to help me out."

"Oh no you won't."

"And how do figure on that?"

Lila interrupted, "Excuse me, Arnold, but who are you talking to?"

Hilda broke free of his grasp with the distraction. "Have fun, Arnold; I'll be observing you until you get through with her." She snapped her fingers and was gone.

"Hilda? You can't just leave me like this!"

"Who's Hilda?"

Arnold finally turned and directed his attention at Lila. "Uh, no one! I was just talking to myself!" _Hey, it's the truth!_

"I see. Arnold, I thought I told you we shouldn't speak to each other for a while."

"I know, but I didn't exactly plan on coming over here."

"What ever do you mean?"

He stopped at her question and thought for a moment. _I'm still dreaming, aren't I? Maybe I should use this to my advantage. For one thing I shouldn't be worried about what I say to her. In fact, I'm going to say exactly what I want with no regard to how she reacts._

_"Sounds like a good plan to me, Arnold."_

Arnold looked around at hearing Hilda's voice. "Hilda? Where are you?"

_"Quit talking out loud, I'm speaking to you in your head."_

He covered his mouth, realizing Lila was still standing there listening to him talk to himself.

_"Arnold, don't answer me, just listen. Do exactly as you're planning to do. Tell her whatever you want."_

_Okay, I will._ He joined Lila at the top of the stoop. "Lila, I…" He trailed off.

_"What are you waiting for, let her have it!"_

_I'm trying! I can't think of what to say!_

_"Arnold, I'm giving you a golden opportunity here! You can say anything you want with no consequences!"_

_I know, it's just…_

"Arnold, do you have anything to tell me?" Lila snapped him out of his conversation with Hilda.

"Yeah, I do, just give me a minute!" Frustrated, he returned to his thoughts. _I can't say anything mean to her, Hilda!_

_"And why is that?"_

_I just can't! I care about her too much!_

_"You have got to be joking!"_

"No, I'm not!" He spoke his last line to Hilda out loud, causing Lila to lose her patience with him.

"Arnold, come back when you grow up and can talk to me like a normal person."

"What? No, Lila, wait a sec—" She slammed the door on him again, this time making physical contact with his face. "Ow! I thought you couldn't get hurt in a dream!"

Before he could take another step, he suddenly found himself in an empty room. He saw a bed in the corner, and before he could discern whose room it was, someone grabbed him by the shirt, whipped him around and got in his face.

"What the heck was that?"

"Hilda! Don't press up against my nose, I just hurt it!"

She pulled him in closer, looking him straight in the eye. "I gave you the chance to practice coming to terms with Lila! Why didn't you do anything?"

"I told you, I still like her!"

"So what?" Hilda shoved him onto the bed and continued yelling at him. "Just because you're in love with this girl means she gets full power over your emotions?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Wake up, Arnold! Earlier tonight, you said the message wasn't getting through! You said you were bringing it on yourself!"

"Yeah, so how am I giving her any power over my emotions?"

Hilda bent down to the seated Arnold and spoke flatly and sternly into his ear. "You have invested all of your affections in this girl. You're completely infatuated with her, giving her one hundred percent of your undivided attention."

"So what's wrong with that?"

Hilda answered him with a slap across his face. "What's wrong is that you're putting her in control! And she's using that control, Arnold! She goes along with you all the time when you ask her out. You may recall today wasn't the first time; remember the Cheese Festival? She goes with you, has a great time—at your expense, I might add—and when it's all over, she tells you she doesn't return your affections!"

"But you're forgetting something, Hilda. After she said that, she told me there was still hope for me."

"Of course she said that! She's leading you on! Are you so dense that you can't see that?"

At this point, Arnold pushed Hilda back and got in her face. "I'm dense? Do me a favor and take a good look at the girl! Look at all her qualities! Is it that hard for you to see why I'm interested in her? She's pretty, smart, and funny, to put it in a nutshell! What can be so wrong in wanting that?"

Hilda gave him a somewhat familiar scowl. "Fine! I see there's nothing I can do to get it through your head. And now we've wasted so much time arguing over Lila that I've got no time to discuss your future love life before you wake up."

"Good, because you don't need to! As far as I'm concerned, Lila is my future love life!"

Hilda gave him a sardonic chuckle. "You don't actually think there's a future between you two?"

"Apparently I'm the only one who does! Now may I ask where we're at?"

"We're in the bedroom of your 'future love.'"

"Is that so? Where is she?"

"How would I know? Besides, there are plenty of clues in the room for you to figure it out. If you'll excuse me, Arnold, I'll be taking my leave now. You can look around the room and take a guess whose it is until you wake up." With that, Hilda vanished in the blink of an eye.

"I'm glad you're gone! I don't need you or your stupid _Christmas Carol _rip-off tour to tell me who my future love is! It's Lila! You hear me, Hilda?" He stopped and caught his breath. _Man, when was the last time I yelled this much? I didn't know it could make you so tired._

Arnold again took a seat on the bed, this time by the nightstand. He glanced down and saw a drawer. _I guess I could have a look around and see who she claims my future love is._ He pulled open the drawer, only to find it empty. Upon this discovery, he got up and made his way around the room. A desk was placed in one corner. The top of the desk was barren except for a couple pencils and a blank piece of paper. He checked the desk drawers, which also turned out to be empty. Next he moved onto the closet. He opened it to find an assortment of generic clothes and dresses, with a strange glow coming from the back. He parted the clothes to discover a strange arrangement of junk surrounded by lit candles and pink notebooks. _Nothing special here._

Shutting the closet door, he was about to go back to the bed and wait for his wakening when he saw something hanging over the knob on the door to the room. He went over and picked it up. _What's this supposed to be?_ It was a long piece of satin, about an inch and a half wide and two feet long. He had a hard time seeing what color it was in the low light coming through the window. _Geez, a minute ago the sun was still up._ Arnold made his way over to the window and held the accessory in what was now moonlight. _I can't tell for sure, but it looks like it's pink. _"Wow, great clue, Hilda! I know exactly who it is!" _How am I supposed to figure out who—wait a minute._

Arnold took the piece of satin and started manipulating it in his hands. Being a boy (and a fairly dense one at that), he wasn't exactly an expert on fashion accessories. _I think it's a…bow? A pink bow? Who do I know that wears—_

He was cut off in his thoughts by the sound of the door opening behind him. The voice entering sounded just as startled to see him as he was by the opening of the door. "Arnold? I mean…what are you doing in my room, Football Head?"

More author's notes: That ought to hold you guys until I get the next chapter written. It could be a little while, though; I've got three midterms this coming week. I'll be sure to put up something by the 6th or 7th. And again, thanks for reading.


	6. School Daze

Author's note: For anyone reading this chapter for the first time, or if you came back to it for a second look, this chapter has been edited and reposted as of 11-17-2003. I changed the very end of it due to "popular discourse." I'll also re-include the important credits and disclaimer.

Origin of chapter title: _School Daze _is a 1987 film directed by Spike Lee. As I had suspected, the title has been borrowed and used by others besides me. Here are a few examples courtesy of an ifilm.com search: _Denver, the Last Dinosaur _in 1988, _The Adventures of Pete and Pete _in 1994, and _Chucklewood Critters _in 1996.

Disclaimer: I've never owned _Hey Arnold!_

"Hey Arnold, I couldn't help but overhear you tellin' Gerald about some kinda dream you had last night."

"That's what I was telling him, Stinky."

"Mind if listen in?"

"Okay, I guess. Anyway Gerald, after we went and saw Ruth she takes me over to—"

"Did I just hear you say 'Ruth?'"

"Yes, Sid."

"Arnold's telling us about a dream he had last night."

"Really? Arnold always has the coolest dreams, and this one's got Ruth! I've gotta hear it too!"

"Fine, Sid, but I'm trying to tell Gerald about—"

"Sid! Stinky! What're you guys doing?"

"Arnold's telling us about another one of his crazy dreams!"

"What? Hey everyone! Arnold had another one of his weird dreams last night!"

What started as a conversation between two friends had escalated into full public disclosure compounded by Harold's yelling. Arnold's conversation in the hall was about to continue with a huge audience when the bell rang. Groans followed the bell as Mr. Simmons stepped out into the hall and began ushering everyone into the room.

Gerald turned to Arnold as they were being herded. "Hey, I wanna hear the rest of that after school when we get a minute alone, okay man?"

"Sure, Gerald, assuming we can escape the class Paparazzi."

"All right, everyone take their seats so we can listen to the announcements!"

Wartz came on the P.A. as the last of the kids came walking in the classroom. "Good morning, boys and girls. I hope you all had a pleasant first day of school and are now ready to get down to business. First off, I would like to remind all students that clothing of some kind is required at all times while on school grounds, and streaking of any kind is not permitted."

As Wartz was speaking, Curly walked into the classroom wearing a full-length trench coat. The belt on the coat appeared to have been tied by another person, in a fashion so that Curly could not undo it himself. "You may have stopped me this time, Wartz, but you can't keep your eyes on me 24/7!" he yelled at the P.A. as he took his seat.

"Actually, Mr. Gamelthorpe, I can, thanks to our brand-new, state-of-the-art school surveillance system, provided to us by the city council's unstoppable education spending frenzy." The camera at the front of the room made a noise as it zoomed in on Curly, making the rest of class uncomfortable as well. "Now, on a lighter note, I have been informed that the local YMAA is starting a new mentoring program next week. Interested students should report to the YMAA on 35th street next Tuesday to sign up and meet the mentors. And, that is all."

Harold spoke up as Wartz signed off. "Mr. Simmons, what's a mentor?"

"I'm glad you asked, Harold. A mentor is an adult, or simply an older person who gives advice and support to someone else who is younger or less experienced."

"You mean like our parents?"

"No, not exactly, more like a older sibling of some kind."

"Is it similar to what goes on in the Big Sis program?"

"Yes, Lila, it's very similar to that, except I think this program is less structured and isn't necessarily gender exclusive."

"That sounds like something some poor loser kid would sign up for!"

"Yeah, who would want to spend a bunch of time hanging out with some old guy we don't even know if we don't have to?"

"Now, Sid, Stinky, I don't want you bad mouthing the mentoring program. You could probably get a lot out of it if you went, and I'm encouraging everyone to think about it and possibly try it out."

"Hey Arnold, how much you wanna bet he's one of the mentors?"

Arnold glanced at Gerald for a moment, and then went back to staring at the wall as he had been doing since he sat down. He was barely awake at this point, having not slept well the night before due to his love tour. _That dream…what was up with Hilda the whole time? Why was she so confrontational about Lila? She seemed really mad about me chickening out. And then there was that bedroom at the end…_

"Excuse me, Arnold?"

"Huh, what?"

"It's your turn to read."

Arnold looked around, getting his wits about him.

"Page 30, Arnold, you're reading the fifth stanza."

_What is he talking about, when did we get into poetry?_ He looked up at the clock, 11:30. _How did three hours go by? Who sleeps that long in class? And what happened to recess, did I sleep through that too? _He opened his literature book, putting his thoughts aside for the moment.

The lunch bell rang just as Arnold read the first word. The stampede for the door swept him out into the hall, where he ran into Gerald on their way to the cafeteria. "Gerald, is it really time for lunch already?"

"Man, you must have been _really _tired. I mean, the recess bell rang, and you kept sleeping. The class ran out and back in, and you kept sleeping. Then Curly found his way out of his coat, took off out the door buck naked, we all followed along, and you _still_ kept sleeping!"

"I can't believe I slept through all of that. Even the Curly bit, I'm sure that would have woke me up."

"Well, I may have been stretching the truth a little there. Still, I wouldn't rule it out before the day gets through. The boy was working on the knot all morning; Wartz must have used some kind of secret military knot-tying technique on it."

Into the cafeteria they went, walking through the typical malaise of kids and flying food. Arnold and Gerald shuffled along the lunch line, which had returned to the same food they had come to know, but certainly not love, from yesteryear.

"Didn't someone do an experiment to see what was in this mush?"

"Yeah, I think it was Harold, oddly enough."

"That so? What he find out?"

"Trust me, Gerald. You don't want to know. I'll go find us a table."

"Cool, I'll be over there in a minute."

Arnold strolled away, with Gerald's words passing through his head like a cool breeze. He sat down at a table, enjoying a cool breeze of a more literal nature from a nearby ceiling fan as he began to survey the room, taking the mild chaos of the cafeteria piece by piece.

"Hey guys, check it out." Harold pulled out a large flower-shaped sticker.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"It's one of those hippie stickers off of Simmons' bike. I'm gonna leave it on his chair when we get back to class. It'll cheese him off so bad!"

"Harold, are you nuts? You can't take the stickers off his bike!"

"Why not?"

"That's vandalism! He finds out you did it, he'll tell Wartz and you'll get like a month's detention!"

"He's not gonna find out, Sid! You're still with me on this one, right Stinky?"

"Heck yeah, I'm in. He's sure gonna look goofy walking around with a big pink flower on his butt!"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, Nadine, let's go down the list again. We've got triangle, square, heart-shaped, and round finger sandwiches."

"Check."

"We've got two completely different bands performing on each floor of the house."

"Check."

"And we've got invitations for every kid from the fourth grade up?"

"Check. But I still don't know why we've got to invite fourth graders, Rhonda."

"Nadine, when you start approaching the top of the totem pole, you need to start recruiting from the bottom up. I'm in the fifth grade now, which means I've only got two grades to work with if we don't extend our boundaries downward."

"Why don't we just invite everyone in our class and have a normal costume party like we did before?"

"Because I have to outdo myself! People get tired of going to the same party over and over! This one has to be bigger and better than the last one, which means more people, more music, and more shapes for the sandwiches!"

"Thanks for having lunch with us, Lila."

"Yeah, I can't remember the last time anyone even remotely popular sat at our table!"

"It's my pleasure, Sheena, Eugene. You guys are just ever so nice, I don't understand why everyone else makes you sit over here in the corner alone with this broken table."

"We don't mind sitting over here too much." The table began to tip to one side as Eugene spoke. "Brainy, I think we need a little more Styrofoam under that leg."

"Uh…got it."

"Great. So I hope you don't mind my asking, Lila, but why did you decide to sit over here with us?"

"Actually, Eugene, I'm trying to avoid a bad situation."

"Really? Is it okay if I ask what it's about?"

Lila directed her gaze toward another corner of the room. The group at the table followed her line of sight and got the message.

"Good afternoon, Simmons."

"Oh, Principle Wartz! Hello! Everything going okay today?"

"Please, keep yourself at ease. You don't want to lose your composure in front of the students—Hey! I saw that young man! The mashed potatoes are for feeding, not fighting! Anyway, Simmons, I just wondering, how many students in your class were showing interest in the new mentoring program?"

"Actually, they all seemed very interested in it after you announced it; I got a lot of questions about it."

"There's a surprise. These kids have no appreciation for the knowledge adults can and do provide to them."

"I beg to differ, sir."

"Don't start in with your 'special' stuff, Simmons. We both know these kids view a mentoring program as a waste of their time. That, or they're afraid to go and thus get labeled by their peers."

"I was just going to say it's still good that the opportunity is open to them."

"Is that so? Well, I do agree with you about the benefits when a kid _does_ decide to give it a try. But mark my words, Simmons; I'd wager a week's pay that not one kid shows up on the first day."

"Hey Arnold, move over one."

"Huh?" The familiar snap back to reality overcame Arnold yet again. "Who's sitting with us?"

"You know who." Gerald cocked his head in her direction as she approached the table.

"Oh. Actually, I'm not feeling that hungry now. I think I'll go and sit outside."

Gerald gave him the familiar questioning look. "Whatever, man." Gerald turned his attention back to his other guest as she sat down.

"Hi, Gerald. Where's Arnold going?"

"He's going outside for some air, I guess."

"Is he still upset about yesterday?"

"My guess is it's that dream he had last night that he was tellin' me about. I 'magine it kept him up most of the night."

"Was the dream about Lila?"

"He didn't tell me about most of it yet, but I imagine it was."

"Interesting. You know, stress is often released by some people through dreams and nightmares."

Gerald sat in silence at this point, listening to Phoebe go on about some studies conducted at some university regarding sleep habits. He enjoyed just looking at her while she cited her points. Before he entered into a dream state similar to Arnold's, a lunch tray slammed down on the table, startling them both.

"Oh! Hi, Helga. Gerald, do you mind if Helga sits with us?"

Helga locked eyes with Gerald. The two of them stared at each other with an alert suspicion. Neither trusted the other, nor did either of them care to be eating lunch together. Each of them had their own reason for their dislike, although they both were oblivious to the real reason for their animosity.

Gerald raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I could allow her presence if it'll make you happy, Phoebe."

"You don't have to allow me nothing, Geraldo. I was just picking up my milk from Phoebe on my way out." Eyes still locked, squinted down to thin white lines, Helga picked up the chocolate milk and bendy straws from Phoebe's tray, picked hers up and walked out the door.

After Helga left, Phoebe glared at Gerald. "What is with you two? Why do you and Helga never seem to get along?"

Gerald stared at the door swinging shut, thinking about Phoebe's question as the pink bow disappeared from his view.

"Sheesh! Phoebe's hanging around with Tall Hair Boy so much I can't get a minute with her! And who does he think he is, anyway? Phoebe is _my_ pawn…I mean, friend!" She scowled in frustration as she cleared the doorway to the schoolyard. A few fourth graders were eating at the table by the tetherball pole where Park and Peapod Kid were playing. It appeared she had some space available to herself to sit and eat in peace until she spotted him.

Arnold was lying on a bench only a few feet away from her, staring up at the sky. Helga froze in place, not wanting to be noticed in his peripheral vision. _Okay, no problem here, just walk around him slowly. Don't do anything to grab his attention._ Following this thought, she proceeded to trip on a crack in the concrete. She tumbled to the ground, breaking her short fall with her arms and suffering only minor scratches on her elbows.

_Geez, why don't I just walk up and scream in his face?_ Helga scrambled to her feet and picked up her lunch tray. _Wow, it's all still here. Wait, where's the milk?_ She looked around for the milk, and panicked when she spotted it under Arnold's bench. _Well, it looks like I'm not drinking milk today! I'll be heading back inside now!_ Off she went, fleeing from the scene.

"Hey, Helga?"

_Why does he always have to be so helpful and everything? I don't want the milk! _"What do you want, Football Head?"

Arnold paused at hearing the familiar taunt roll off her tongue. _I remember hearing that somewhere in my dream. Was I in Helga's room at the end? It all seems like a blur now…_

"Hey! Paste for brains!" She now stood over him, glaring the trademark scowl. Her frown looked like it was about to break her lip line in half.

"I…just wanted to know if you wanted this." He held the carton up, milk leaking out of one corner.

Helga stood, arms crossed, sneer permanently etched on her face. She knew how to create an intimidating presence. Slowly, she reached out, took the milk from Arnold's hand, and proceeded to squeeze the box over his head. The carton broke, and the milk burst forth onto Arnold's head and shirt.

"Hey! What did you do that for?"

"I decided I didn't want it. You can have it, instead." She turned and began walking away, feet stomping as she laughed loudly.

But Arnold had other ideas. He ran up along side her and began his interrogation. "Why did you squeeze a box of chocolate milk onto me?"

"I _said_ I didn't want it."

"You could have just offered it to me in the box."

"I suppose I could have, but that wouldn't have been nearly as funny." She was about to continue laughing when Arnold stepped in front of her.

"You know, Helga, you make absolutely no sense! What possesses you time and time again to do these things to me? And why is it always me in particular?"

Her domineering appearance was not fazed, except for the smile forming on her face. It appeared she taking pleasure in Arnold's confusion.

"Hey, I asked you a question!"

The tone in Arnold's voice caught her off guard. An uncharacteristic show of anger by her crush broke her tough exterior, exchanging smug arrogance for confusion. "Don't…get bent out of shape…Arnold."

"Just tell me right now, get it over with. Why me?"

Confusion was now replaced by fear. _He's trying to force it out of me again! No way, I can't let him win!_ "Look, Hair Boy, unless you want a visit from Old Betsy, you'd best butt out!"

"I won't do that, Helga. Tell me why you're always picking on me."

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because why?"

She pulled him by the shirt up to her eye line, went nose-to-nose and hissed, "You already know why, you idiot! Now leave it be! Leave it!" Helga tossed him to the ground and stomped away.

"No! I'm not leaving it alone! Come back and—" The lunch bell cut him off. Arnold glared at Helga as she walked through the door back into the school, and then directed his gaze back to his own appearance. "How much longer is she going to keep this stuff up? I'm running out of good sweaters." He chalked it up as a "girl thing" and walked off to the bathroom to clean up.


	7. Mud Series

Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews, folks! I've noticed most of you think Arnold is incredibly dense. He is pretty dense, but I think I may have exaggerated things a bit there. Oh well, it's already written, so let's move on now, shall we?

Chapter seven is a product of two occurrences: First, I notice as I read these fanfics that there aren't a lot of scenes where the kids are doing kid stuff. I felt this was part of the show's foundation, so I wrote this chapter to fly in the face of that trend (in the spirit of the episode "Rich Kid"). Secondly, baseball playoffs are in full swing, and there's plenty of it to go around in this chapter. I guess it all crept into my subconscious and took control of the plot, with nice results.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Hey Arnold!_

It sounded as if a war was taking place on the roof. Water pounded away at the boarding house, the noise seeming to grow louder with every minute. The thunder and lightning was constant, and some hail seemed to be mixed with the rain at this point.

"King me."

"I can't, I'm out of pieces."

"It doesn't matter, anyway; this game's going nowhere, Arnold." Gerald leaned back in his chair and stared up through Arnold's skylight. "We've been playing checkers for three hours now; when's it gonna let up?"

Arnold sighed at Gerald's comment and cleared the checkerboard. "What did you expect, Gerald? My grandpa says this is the twelfth straight year we've had a storm on Labor Day."

"Man, I don't care if it's the hundredth year straight! This is our only extra day off from school until Thanksgiving!"

"Don't get so bent out of shape. What about the teacher in-service days?"

"Oh, sure. We'll just wait until we get one of those. Arnold, I heard that Wartz found a way to get rid of the in-service days this year."

"Come on, Gerald, you just heard some rumor about it."

"I wish I did, but Fuzzy Slippers did some undercover work on Wartz and the school board over the summer. The in-service days are just the tip of the iceberg. I also heard they're trying to extend the school day by a whole hour so the teachers get paid more! And they don't even have to teach us in that hour, Arnold! It's some kind of study hall period, and the teachers don't have to do anything but sit there!"

"Gerald, does Fuzzy Slippers ever do any fact checking? I really don't think they're going to lengthen the days by an hour. Besides, aren't teachers paid a fixed annual salary?"

"A what now?"

"They don't get paid by the hour, Gerald."

"Whatever, alls I know is we're stuck inside on our precious day off." Gerald looked up through the skylight, fell to his knees, and yelled, "Why? Why do you mock and torture us like this? I want out of this house!" A loud crack of thunder, enough to rattle the windows, answered Gerald. A moment later, the lights flickered off. He stood up, collected himself, and pointed up at the sky, "Touché."

Grandpa poked his head in the door. "If you two are done lamenting the Almighty, there's some fuses in the basement that need checkin'."

"We're on it, Grandpa. Come on, Gerald."

"Man, that guy's got a twisted sense of humor."

"Who, my grandpa?

"…Yeah…your grandpa."

"I can't take it. It's almost 5:00! We've been in here now for six hours! I have to get out there!"

Arnold didn't respond as he went to answer the ringing phone in the hall. "Hello?"

_"Is this the football face?"_

"Hi, Wolfgang."

_"What's up, shrimp? Looks like we won't get to play our game today."_

"Looks like it. I'm sure you're real disappointed you didn't get to mop the floor with us."

_"Oh, you know it! But don't worry, there'll be another day for us to whomp on you fifth graders."_

"Sure thing, Wolfgang."

_"Hey, is your guys' power out, too?"_

"Yeah."

_"Man, I hate the rain! All right, Arnold. I'll see you tomorrow, punk."_

"Later." He hung the phone up and sat back down on the couch. "That was Wolfgang, Gerald."

Gerald didn't answer, his nose still pressed up against the living room window.

"Gerald, did you hear me?"

"So…much…water…"

"Are you okay? You're taking this way too hard."

Gerald spun around in Arnold's face as he approached. "Am I, Arnold? Or maybe you're taking it too lightly! It's an injustice! The power's out, it's still pouring rain and hail, and I haven't swung a baseball bat today, the last official day of summer for a kid!"

"You boys still anxious to get out there and play some ball, eh?" Grandpa came walking in with some watermelon Grandma had sliced up.

"I wouldn't mind if we got out there, but Gerald seems bent on it."

"Oh, I can't blame him. Yes, sir, the rain is a Labor Day tradition around these parts. It pours down all day like this every year. Of course, there's always the exception."

Gerald bolted to Grandpa's side at that comment. "What exception?"

"Oh, what was it called? Ah, yes, the Twelfth-Year Break!"

"What's the Twelfth-Year Break? Tell me! Tell me!"

"Arnold, could you get him off me, please?" Gerald had to be pried off Grandpa's shirt, which he had grabbed in his anxiety. "Now, as you asked, the Twelfth-Year Break is a strange natural phenomenon; stranger, actually, than the fact that it rains on Labor Day every single year without fail. You already know about the yearly rain; what you two don't know, since you're only ten and weren't here the last time it happened, is that on every twelfth Labor Day, exactly two hours before dusk, the rain stops and the clouds seemingly vanish into thin air!"

"Are you serious? What time is sunset today?"

"If I remember correctly, it's five after seven on Labor Day."

"7:05, that means…what time is it now?"

Phil checked his watch. "5:03."

"Arnold, it's gonna stop raining in two minutes! We can go outside!"

Arnold had been sitting idly by listening to Grandpa explain his theory, and had to butt in at this point. "Gerald, I wouldn't get excited. Grandpa, there's no way that's true."

"Well of course it is! It's scientifically proven! They even gave it some clever name. What was it…El Beano, I think it's called."

"No way." Arnold said matter-of-factly.

"No way!" Gerald exclaimed in excitement. "Arnold, let's get our stuff and wait by the door!"

"Gerald, this is my grandpa we're talking about here! No offense, Grandpa, but there's no way that…" Silence came over the room. The roar on the roof had quieted down, and sunlight began to trickle in through the window. Gerald took off running for the door, and could be heard screaming a mixture of praise for God and general exclamations outside. Arnold glared up at his grandpa and quickly spoke, "Don't even!"

Phil smiled smugly as the TV and power came back on and Arnold left. After the boys were gone, Phil pulled out his newspaper he had hiding under the sofa cushion. It was flipped to the weather page, which read: "Rain most of the day, clearing by late afternoon."

"Those boys will believe anything I tell them."

"Gerald! Slow down! We've got two hours, you don't need to—" Arnold rounded the corner and smacked into Gerald, who had stopped at first sight of Gerald Field, which at this point was a field only in name. The outfield resembled a marsh pit, with an inch of water standing over most of the grass. The infield fared no better, with most of the dirt eroded down into soft brown mud. The baselines had been washed off the grass, and second base had floated up to the pitchers mound, the only spot on the field where one could stand without getting his feet wet. The boys didn't seem to mind, however. They stepped to the edge of the grass and dropped their bats and mitts.

"Arnold, are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Do the honors, Gerald."

With that, Gerald cleared his throat, faced away from the field toward the rest of the neighborhood, and shouted, "MUD BALL!!"

Harold burst forth through a window across the street. "Did you just say—" He caught sight of the field, "YEAH!"

Sid and Stinky came down the street as Harold flew out his door. "Boy howdy, check out the field!"

"It looks like a dang bayou!"

"Yeah! Let's get messy!"

Wolfgang and Ludwig came approaching from the other direction. "All right! I'm gonna put those fifth graders in the mud face first!"

"Bet you I can plant more of them in the pitcher's mound than you can!"

"You're on!"

Arnold and Gerald stood at the top of the bleachers at the end of the field (the other dry spot) and watched the stampede unfold. More sixth graders followed behind Wolfgang and Ludwig, while Harold led the fifth grade charge. One by one, the fifth graders grew in numbers. Park was next out, as his house was near Harold's. Eugene, Brainy, Sheena and Phoebe came around another corner, followed by Lorenzo, Peapod Kid, Rhonda and Nadine.

"Wow, Gerald, looks like you did it."

"Arnold, what did you expect? I have a natural summoning ability. Speaking of summoning, by the way…" he directed Arnold's attention down the street toward an approaching redhead.

"Oh, no. I don't know about this Gerald."

"Come on, Arnold! You haven't talked to the girl for a week now! Besides, you're probably not going to run into her personally the way this is looking."

They both took notice of the melee taking place in the swamp before them. Although all the kids brought bats and gloves, a baseball game didn't appear to be on their agenda. Harold had initially run into Wolfgang, starting a pileup. Everyone was rolling around in the green slop, but none seemed to enjoy it as much as Rhonda, which Harold took note of when he rolled into her.

"Rhonda? What are you doing here?"

"Having an absolute blast! What does it look like?"

"But you're supposed to be, you know, all concerned with appearance and everything."

"I know! I thought of that too, but then I heard Gerald yell out 'mud ball' and something just kicked in, like an instinct or something!"

"But you're Rhonda! Rhonda doesn't…oh, you're confusing me!"

Rhonda tackled Harold into the infield mud as Arnold watched in amazement. "Gerald, this might be getting a little out of hand."

"You're telling me, check out Curly!" Gerald pointed out a walking pile of mud wearing red glasses. Curly raised his arms up, yelling, "Behold! I am the mighty Bigfoot!" Ludwig took him down from behind without another word.

"People, can we get a little order here?"

"Yeah, we called you out here for a baseball game!"

The brawl ignored Arnold and Gerald's pleas. The two of them sat down on the top row of the bleachers to wait out the insanity. It turned out to be a short wait, as a hush swept over the field after a few minutes. All attention was directed toward the latest arrival. She stood at the sidewalk, wearing a green-plaid mini-skirt, white blouse and black vest. In contrast, she had a bat and glove slung over one shoulder, and her hair was done up in typical fashion rather than attempting to copy that aspect of her older sibling's appearance. Every kid on the field stood gawking at her, especially Arnold and Gerald. "Tell me that isn't…"

"It might be, Gerald."

"There is _no way…"_

"It could be…"

"Is it really?"

"I think it is."

The girl grew impatient. "So, are you clowns gonna play swamp games all day or are we gonna get down to some baseball?"

"Yeah, we'll get to that! First off, tell us why you're dressed like your sister!"

"What's it to you, Geraldo?"

"Nothing, except I don't remember the last time I saw Helga Pataki like…_that."_

"For your information, this is an outfit Olga bought for me a few months ago when she attempted to 'bond' with me. I promised her I'd wear it one day, and there's no better day to wear it than a day like this!"

Wolfgang spoke up. "Who cares what she looks like, let's get this game started!"

A collective cheer rose up from both sides. Ludwig slopped his way to the plate and took his place in the batter's box, which more closely resembled quicksand at this point. He smacked the plate with the bat and called out, "Hey! Where's your catcher at?"

The catcher was making her way over while being questioned by Arnold. "Helga, did you wear that outfit out here just so it'd get messed up?"

"No, I always wanted to dress like Olga! Criminy, what's your point?"

"How's she going to feel the next time she sees it?"

Helga chuckled and placed a hand on Arnold's shoulder, and spoke in an instructional tone, "Oh, my simple yutz, know you nothing of my sister's ways?"

"Huh?"

"Olga's never going to see it; I'll be lucky if she even remembers she bought it for me."

"But how can you even spite her if she's never going to see it?"

"Spite isn't the point, Arnold! You think I'm going to mess up one of my own outfits out here?"

Point taken, Arnold was about to take his place at shortstop when he came up with one more question, "How can you play catcher wearing a mini-skirt…I mean, with the crouching and everything?"

She lifted the skirt in his direction as she walked away to reveal a pink pair of shorts she had on underneath. _Only Helga, _he thought.

It was now the bottom of the third inning. No runs had scored at this point, let alone had anyone gotten to second base. No matter how hard anyone hit the ball, it would stop wherever it landed with a loud "ker-plunk!" Even when the ball landed deep in the outfield and the fielders had to slosh their way to it, the base runners were forced to either walk the bases or slip and fall in the mud while running.

Gerald took the plate as Arnold waited on deck. Before Arnold could begin warming up, a girl approached him. "Hi, Arnold."

He dropped his bat at her appearance. "Hi…Lila."

She stood by him like a shy schoolgirl, arms behind her back, head down, and one leg behind the other pivoting on the toe. "So…"

"So…"

"Arnold…I'm sorry about the way I acted last week. I shouldn't have slammed the door in your face, that was just oh so rude of me."

"It's okay, Lila, I'm fine."

"That's good, Arnold. I just want you to know I value our friendship a lot and don't want to do anything to ruin it."

His fists tightened in the same way they had on that late afternoon one week prior. He still couldn't help but get annoyed by the double standard she seemed to practice, one minute being friendly and playful and then acting like an insulted ingrate whenever he told her how she made him feel. Arnold swallowed the frustration and politely answered, "Me neither, Lila."

"Great!" The sudden perkiness in her voice startled him to drop the bat again. "Good luck, Arnold. I'll be rooting for you!" She gave him a glancing smile as she turned to walk away, which confused Arnold even further.

He then heard the sound of knuckles popping, at which he glanced down to his hands to discover they were open. "Where did that—" Arnold discovered the source of the sound, turning to face Helga who was sitting on the bench right behind him. Her arms were resting at her sides, but on closer inspection, her fists where solid white.

Arnold brought his eyes to Helga's eye level after noticing her hands, and received the quick retort, "What?"

"Why are you clenching your hands like that?"

"It's a free country, and can do whatever I want with my hands!"

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the game just in time to see Gerald wale on a fastball. The ball went just over the head of the right fielder, and splashed down into a particularly murky spot in the field. Gerald stepped gingerly down the baseline, taking his time to make sure he didn't lose his vertical base on the mud. Ludwig slogged out between first and second to make the cutoff catch. "Let's go! Throw me the ball!"

The right-fielder was on his knees, looking for the ball around a pile of floating weeds. "I'm trying, Ludwig! I can't find it!"

Gerald made a dive for first base and stopped there. Arnold came over to him. "Gerald, go for second!"

"Are you kidding me? I'm not getting stranded out there when I slip and can't get back to my feet like everyone else!"

"You have to try! They can't find the ball! Besides, someone has to get all the way around or we'll never score!"

"Forget it, put a pinch runner in for me, I can't do it!"

"Gerald, just go for it!" Arnold gave Gerald what he thought was a nudge of encouragement, but it was enough to make Gerald lose his balance. He fell toward second, and slid halfway.

"Great job, Arnold! Now I'm out here just waiting to get picked off!" Gerald quickly tried to get on his feet, but kept slipping before he got off his knees.

"Gerald, stay on the ground and slide yourself to second!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You made it halfway by sliding on your stomach! Just go the rest of the way like that!"

Gerald looked over at right field as Arnold yelled at him, and saw Ludwig shove the other kid aside and grab the ball out of the weeds himself. "Oh, man! Arnold, I'm dead meat!"

"You got that right, shrimp!" Wolfgang came over to make the cutoff catch. "Right here, Ludwig! I've got the tag!"

"Go, Gerald! Slide!"

Gerald started doing his best breaststroke in the mud as Ludwig threw in the ball from right field. Wolfgang made the catch and went to tag Gerald, but slipped and dropped the ball. At this point, the fifth grade bench started cheering Gerald on, as he crawled foot-by-foot and reached second base just before Wolfgang made an impressive dive of his own in an attempt to make the tag.

"All right, Gerald!" Arnold led the cheer as the fifth graders roared in approval.

Gerald turned to Arnold, exhausted from his "swim" to second base. "Whatever, man! Just make sure you get a hit so this ain't a waste of my time!"

"Listen to him, Geek Bait," Helga spoke to Arnold before he walked to the plate. "We've got two outs, so you'd better not leave your buddy on base after all the effort he put in."

"I don't plan on it." He turned and walked away with his bat.

Helga waited a moment before she began. "Oh, Arnold! So confident in his and everyone else's abilities! So sure of victory! He cannot—no, he shall not fail!" She paused in her private revelry as she overheard another female voicing Arnold's approval. Helga turned and stared her down. "And at the same time how I wish the pitcher would bean Arnold and make him forget all about Lila! Look at her over there, cheering him on; as if she actually cares about us winning the game!" Helga then turned her attention back to Arnold, only to catch him waving to Lila. "Why that little…" She grabbed a nearby bat and started twisting the handle in an attempt to release her rage.

Ludwig took the mound and was about to pitch to Arnold when Wolfgang called time. Arnold stepped aside as Wolfgang ran out to the pitcher's mound.

"Wolfgang, what gives?"

"I think we should walk him."

"Why? I can strike him out."

"Look, it's just smart baseball. We've been getting force-outs at second every time they've got a man on first."

"Okay, then I guess I'll walk him."

"But we're not going to intentionally walk him, at least in the traditional sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say we put him on first with one pitch instead of four."

Ludwig shrugged in confusion, causing Wolfgang to make a gesture. "Oh, okay. I've got you, Wolfgang. Pretty sweet idea."

Wolfgang smiled back in agreement and headed back to home plate. Arnold stepped back into the batter's box and waited for the pitch. Meanwhile, Helga, who had built up a thin layer of sawdust where she was squeezing her bat, grew suspicious of the two bullies. Being a bully herself, she knew they were up to no good with Arnold. A thought crossed her mind, and while she quickly denied it, she still couldn't help but worry about Arnold's well-being.

"All right, Ludwig, pitch it right in here, baby!" Wolfgang had a huge sneer on his face, and Ludwig was mirroring it back to him.

Helga had seen enough to know what was coming as Ludwig wound up for the pitch. "Arnold, get down!"

"Huh?" He turned his head to face in the direction of the scream. He caught the look of terror on Helga's face just before everything went black.

Another idea that popped into my head as the opportunity presented itself! I know, it's blatantly obvious what the next chapter's going to be about now. Worse yet, I haven't written it yet! Patience, folks, it'll be up as soon as it's done. Thanks for reading.


	8. Second Impression

Author's notes: A title change was made to this chapter on 11-17-2003. It was originally titled "Beaned 2, part one," but later I thought up the more original title you now see in the drop-down menu. The same thing goes for chapter nine, which was originally "part two."

Disclaimer: _Hey Arnold!_ is not owned by me. Chapters 7-9 are based off the episode "Beaned," written by Michelle Lamoreaux.

A hush passed over Gerald Field, a silence not heard there since the days when it was a mere vacant lot. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as Ludwig's pitch connected with its target, sending him into the mud face-first. The ball ricocheted off and rolled to a stop at Helga's feet.

The benches and bleachers cleared out, and all the players on the field and off ran toward home plate. Mud flew and water splashed about as the sea of kids fought their way through the remnants of the infield. Gerald slid in under the legs of the crowd and made his way to Arnold's side. "Arnold! Hey Arnold, you okay?" Others standing adjacent echoed Gerald's worries, but Arnold did not respond. He was out cold, with a huge lump forming just above his left eye where the baseball had connected.

Lila waited until the other kids in the bleachers cleared out before she slowly made her way down the first base line. There was no question that she was concerned about Arnold's well being. Still, part of her felt hesitant to approach the plate. It may have been she was afraid to see how badly he was hurt, or perhaps she was contemplating what the other kids would think of her rushing to his side like his damsel in distress.

She had to do something, even if it was just talking to someone else and sharing the concern. Lila walked over and spoke to the only other person on the field who didn't rush the plate when Arnold got hit. "Oh, this is ever so terrible! I'm so worried! Do you think he's okay, Helga?"

Lila's addressee was still sitting on the bench in the same spot she had when Arnold went to bat. Helga looked empty-headed, almost paralyzed. Sitting still as stone, her mouth hung open as she stared blankly across the field. It was the most unbelievable thing she had seen in her recent life, and had the potential to be the most traumatic. Her beloved was lying on the ground, breathing, but nothing more. Waves of guilt swept over her petrified body, as if her angry thoughts from a minute prior had materialized into reality.

Being a firm believer in the jinx-like quality of her thoughts, Helga decided to take responsibility for Arnold's condition, and to the effect set out to right the wrong. "One side, Lila," Helga spoke flatly as she rose to her feet and marched off to deliver justice.

Wolfgang and Ludwig stood a few feet away from the gathering around the felled Arnold. "Man, Ludwig, I didn't know you had such a devastating pitch in ya!"

"Yeah, I guess I really got him good," Ludwig spoke nervously as he took a step backward.

"Hey, where are you doing?"

"Uh, Wolfgang, I think maybe we should think about hightailing it outta here."

"Are you serious? Come on, he'll be fine! It's not like you killed him or anything."

"I know; it's just that I don't want to be around when he wakes up and tries to retaliate."

"Arnold retaliating? Are we talking about the same kid here? Ludwig, chill out! Even if he's mad about it, there's nothing him or any of these other brats will or can do about it!"

"Yeah, I guess you're ri—" A hand grabbed Ludwig's arm and spun him around. He instinctively swung his fist, but only found air. A quick glance downward revealed the arm-puller. "And just what do you think you're doing, Pink Bow?"

Helga glared at Ludwig, intimidated not in the very least. "I believe you've done something that I don't quite agree with."

"Oh, really? Are you mad that I beaned your little boyfriend over there?"

She smiled slightly at hearing Ludwig's reference but remained in focus. "No one lays a hand on the football head except me."

Wolfgang and Ludwig both oohed at that remark as Ludwig continued, "So you think you're going to do something about it?"

"I don't think it; I know it for a fact that you two are going to get what's coming to you."

The two sixth-graders looked at each other and broke into laughter. Helga remained motionless as they continued until they were almost crying. Wolfgang turned and walked away as Ludwig gave Helga some parting words, "Oh, man! That was really good! Thanks for the laugh, we'll see you later, One-brow."

He turned to follow Wolfgang, but Helga latched onto his arm again. Ludwig tried to pull away, only to get pulled in further by Helga. She tightened her grip, digging her fingernails into his arm as she drew him in until they were eye-to-eye. Ludwig continued to struggle, "Ow! Hey, what's your problem? Let go of my arm!"

"Cram it! Listen up, and mark my words because I haven't spoken anything more truthful than before now. You _will_ regret what you have done today. I promise you, at some point in the future, I _will_ return the favor; not only that, I'll return it ten-fold. And you'll know it when it happens. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one. Why do you care so much about what I did to Arnold? You got a thing for him or something?"

"That's none of your beeswax. Now am-scray before I lose my composure." She released his arm, leaving behind four, dark red marks that looked bad enough to leave scars. Ludwig backed off slowly, looking at his forearm in mild horror. He then directed his gaze at Helga, ready to retaliate in some fashion until he saw a fire in her eyes like he'd never seen before.

"Look, uh, tell him I'm sorry when he wakes up and stuff, and no hard feelings, okay?" He promptly ran off in Wolfgang's direction without speaking another word.

Helga now redirected her attention to the home plate area. At this point it looked like Arnold was beginning to stir as Gerald had stood up and started backing people away, "Give him some air, folks! Give him some air!" Now faced with the prospect of dealing with Arnold, her focus waned and her mind began to race.

_Thank God, it looks like he's okay. But what do I do now? Should I really go over there? I mean, what'll all the kids think of it? Especially Gerald, I can never put anything past him, give him credit for that. Then again, why does it matter what they think of it? I care more about his well being than all of those chumps put together! Okay then, enough thinking! I'm going straight over there and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he's okay._

With that, she resumed her march, splashing water high in the air and she stomped through the flooded field.

"Arnold, come on, man! You've got to come around any minute now!" Gerald slapped Arnold's face around and shook him by the shoulders as Arnold very slowly regained consciousness through a series of low groans.

Phoebe came over and opined, "Gerald, I think you should let him rest for a minute. He'll wake up when he's ready."

Gerald looked at her. She looked confident in her judgment, which was good enough for him. He backed away and waited with the rest of the crowd.

"Get a load of the size of that bump! It's almost bigger than the baseball!"

"Golly, Sid, I think you're right. It looked to me like those two planned that calamity the whole time."

"Speaking of those two, anyone see where Wolfgang and Ludwig went?"

"I took care of them."

The low murmur that was present in the crowd fell to silence as Helga arrived, brandishing Old Betsy. As expected, Gerald began firing questions. "You took care of them? By yourself?"

"That's right."

"And may I ask why you risked physical harm in doing so?"

"Because I felt like it! And if anyone's going to bean the swollen football head over there, it should be me."

"Oh, so what you're saying is you did this out of some kind of 'bully pride?'"

_You put the words right in my mouth._ "Bingo, Bucko."

The argument was about to proceed when the subject suddenly sat up. Gerald and Helga both dropped the conversation and went over to Arnold's side.

"Finally! Arnold, how you feeling, buddy?"

Arnold glanced at Gerald, then at Helga and the rest of the crowd of kids. "What's going on? Who are all of you?"

Silence again fell over the crowd of kids. As if to confirm that they were all experiencing the same feeling of déjà vu, Rhonda broke the silence, "Oh…my…God."

Gerald stood up and began pacing. "You have got to be kidding me! Those two jerks gave him amnesia!"

Phoebe got up and followed Gerald around. "Don't panic, Gerald! We don't know how bad it is yet."

Everyone began turning to the nearest other person and sharing their disbelief. It was only five months prior that Arnold had hit a high fly ball and struck Helga squarely in the head with the same result, except that Arnold was now on the receiving end.

As Gerald, Phoebe and the rest of the kids got up and started making a commotion, Helga remained perfectly still, sitting on the ground by Arnold. He was distracted by the brouhaha and didn't notice her presence, which she was thankful for, on account of the fact that she was speechless. _Oh, sweet and bitter irony, how you mock us! 'Twas only months ago that fate caused a wild foul ball to smack against my own skull and plunge me into a sea of forgetfulness, and now, the tables have been turned. My love, guilty only of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, is now in the same unfortunate position I had previously been in myself._

_Hey, wait a minute. _Her thought tone changed. _If he's the one that doesn't remember anything, then that means someone has to take care of him! How fitting would it be for me to get the chance to take care of Arnold? It's almost too perfect! I _must_ think of a way to get out of here with him in tow!_

She was about to formulate her grand scheme when Arnold suddenly looked in her direction. Helga had been staring at him while she brainstormed, and only now had he returned the favor. The meeting of their eyes startled her, halting her thoughts with the effect of a freeway pileup. She searched for something to say that wouldn't offend him in his vulnerable state, and was about to settle on a simple "hello" when he spoke first.

"I like your bow."

"You…what?" Helga was taken completely aghast at that remark. First, she quickly recalled the fact that, even though she was dressed as Olga from neck-to-toe, she had left her pigtails and trademark pink bow intact. Only after this did his words register in her brain, which promptly set off the mental fireworks. _He said he likes my bow, again! That's the same thing he said to me the first time we met! This is unbelievable! It's almost like we're starting all over again!_

The wheels once again began to turn, as Helga shut her eyes and grinned in anticipation. _All I have to do is grab the little shrimp, hightail it to the boarding house, and take it from there! His grandparents wouldn't mind if I stayed around to help fix him up, and the whole time I can be in his presence without worrying about how he'll react! This is too good! This is…_

She felt something pulling at her head. She opened her eyes just in time to see Arnold pull her bow right out of her hair. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"I wanted to get a better look at your bow, it's really nice." Arnold smiled as he took a closer look at the pink piece of fabric.

Helga was at a loss for words. Her instincts wanted to berate him for invading her personal space, but she overcame them and gave him special consideration based on the circumstances. "I'm…glad you like it…"

He looked up at her as she spoke. Seeing the confusion and shock on her face, he appeared to get an idea. He took off his blue hat and offered it to her, "You wanna trade?"

Helga took the hat in silent agreement. She looked at the object she had once desired to possess and placed it on her head; ironically, it stayed put in the same manner as it did on his, despite its size. The whole situation continued to puzzle and interest her at the same time. Arnold went back to examining the bow in his hand, similar to the way a young child would inspect something new and foreign.

_Look at him, he's like a little kid with that bow. Oh well, why am I complaining? He gave me his hat._ She took the hat off and inhaled the sweet aroma left behind from his hair. After doing so, she noticed Arnold had watching her smell his hat, which prompted him to mimic her and run her bow along his nose. _He did not just do what I think he did…_

"Helga? Helga, are you okay?"

"Huh?" Helga slowly came to, still feeling very dizzy. She rubbed her eyes and was greeted by the presence of Phoebe at her side, holding Helga's pink bow. "The bow!"

"Yes, I've got your bow right here. Arnold gave it to me when we came over here."

Helga had sat up straight at this point and looked around. Arnold was over in the bleachers talking with Gerald, who seemed to be very frustrated at the moment. She turned her attention back to her best friend. "Pheebs, what happened just now?"

"I don't know what happened, but I glanced over at you while Gerald and I were talking about what to do with Arnold and you appeared to faint."

"I fainted?" _That'll make a great impression on him,_ Helga thought. She turned and looked in Arnold's direction again. "So wait, is Arnold still all screwed up?"

"I'm afraid so. Gerald came over here and walked him to the bleachers to talk to him. He didn't have a clue who we were when we approached him, but he seems to be himself otherwise."

_Obviously you weren't watching him when he was running my bow under his nose like a perfume sample in a magazine._ Helga continued to devote most of her attention toward the other side of the field as Phoebe explained every detail that had transpired in the five minutes Helga spent in unconsciousness. _Man, Gerald looks like he's having a lot of trouble with him._ She wasn't able to hear them clearly, but Gerald was clearly upset by the whole situation. Arnold, meanwhile, kept looking around with an inquisitive look on his face, as if he'd never been alive before he woke up after the beaning. At one point, Arnold pointed up at the sky, apparently at the remnant cloud cover, which caused Gerald to slap his forehead and yell something about clouds at Arnold.

"Helga?"

"Hmm?" she answered absent-mindedly.

"Are you ready to go home? I was going to tell Gerald we were leaving."

The question regained Helga's attention in Phoebe's favor. Helga noticed that pretty much all the other kids had left, except a few of the girls from their class, namely Rhonda, Sheena and…_Lila? Why is she still here? She'll ruin everything! And never mind the fact that Rhonda and Sheena are there, too. I can't run the risk of him attaching himself to one of them instead of me!_

"Helga? Are you coming with me?"

"But Phoebe, what about Arnold?"

"What about him? Gerald's taking care of him; you don't need to worry."

"No, that's not it." Helga gave Phoebe a certain look, which Phoebe recognized immediately.

"Oh, Helga, I don't know about that."

"Come on, Pheebs! I wouldn't ask you to help, except…well, you know how Gerald will be about it if I go over there!"

"Helga, I really think we should leave Arnold alone in this situation. Gerald can walk him home and make sure he's okay."

"I suppose…" Helga turned to start walking with Phoebe. The two of them reached the edge of the field, the point at which Helga stopped and looked back. Phoebe continued on for a few yards before realizing what happened, then returned to Helga's side.

She put her hand on Helga's shoulder as Helga stared across the field. As they stood there, Gerald talked to the other girls while Arnold played with his hat. After a few moments, Gerald and the girls waved to each other, and the girls all left, prompting a sigh of relief in Helga's thoughts.

"Helga, we really should be getting going. The streetlights are coming on."

Helga continued to stand in the same spot, sinking into the puddle in which she had stopped. At Phoebe's latest request, she turned and looked at her friend with a pleading look on her face. Phoebe frowned in return, shaking her head. Helga clasped her hands together, silently mouthing, "Please." Phoebe looked into Helga's eyes and saw true, sincere worry, the kind you'd put next to the word in the dictionary.

"All right, Helga. I'll try."

Helga hugged Phoebe in gratitude and followed behind her as they walked over to the bleachers.

"Okay, Arnold. I'm going to walk you home now."

"Home? What's that?"

Gerald slapped his forehead yet again. At this point it looked like he had a handprint tattooed across his face. "Home is where you live, man! Don't you remember anything?"

"I don't know, what am I supposed to remember?"

"How about anything at all? Okay, I've got one! There's no way you could have forgot this." Gerald held his hand up to Arnold's and made a fist.

Arnold looked at it, perplexed. "What's that supposed to be?"

"Arnold, you're kidding, right? You have to remember our secret handshake, buddy!"

"Well, you must be doing a good job at keeping it a secret, because I sure don't know it!"

Arnold laughed at his own joke as Gerald stood up and paced in frustration. He was ready to give up and take Arnold home when he saw the two girls approaching. "Hey, Phoebe!" He paused as he recognized the other girl in the dim twilight. "What's she doing here?"

"Gerald, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure thing." He walked with Phoebe a few yards away from the bleachers. They began talking at a low level as Helga nervously approached Arnold, who was now lying on his back, staring up at the only star in the sky in the early evening.

"What is that?"

"Huh?" His sensing her silent approach startled Helga. "What's what?"

"That white dot up there." He pointed off in the direction of what he saw.

"Oh, that's Venus…I think."

"Venus. That's a nice name." He sat up and looked at her. "I don't think you ever told me yours."

"Helga. Helga G. Pataki." She spoke it as proudly as she could but could tell she was blushing at the same time.

"Helga…that's a nice name, too."

_I think Phoebe may have had the better idea. I don't know how much complementing I can take from him, even if it's not from the "real" Arnold._ "Uh, thanks. I chose it myself."

He laughed. "Wow, sounds like you're pretty lucky. I wish I could pick _my_ name. But they tell me it's Arnold."

"Yeah, that's what it's supposed to be." Helga looked at him, smiling back at her. _I know I'm not really, technically talking to Arnold, but this is still too much!_

The conversation was about to continue when Gerald's yelling interrupted. "Oh, no! No way, Phoebe!" He began walking toward Helga, now directing his comments to her. "Helga, I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but I'm onto you, and I'm certainly not letting you get anywhere near him to try and pull one of your little schemes when his defenses are lowered!"

_Why you little…_ Helga jumped off the bleachers and met Gerald before he made it halfway back. "Just what are you insinuating?"

"I don't know; whatever it is you're planning, that's what I'm referring to!"

Helga wanted to break Gerald in half. "Listen, Gerald!" This caught his attention immediately, the lack of a deriding nickname. "I wasn't planning anything funny! Just like any other normal human being, I'm concerned about how Arnold's doing!"

"Yeah, sure, is that why you're always picking on him all the time, making his life a living hell?"

Phoebe stood by worried, as Arnold ignored the whole situation, watching a flock of seagulls flying overhead toward the purple sky in the west.

"Why do you always have to question my motives?"

"Why do you always have to butt into our business?"

Helga quickly searched for a reason to gain even a small amount of credibility with him. "Look, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I've got this little thing called honor."

"You're right; that is pretty hard to believe."

Helga glared at Gerald and moved in closer to finish her explanation. "And as a person of honor, I'm obligated to help Arnold out wherever he's done the same for me."

Gerald nodded. "So you want me to believe that because Arnold took care of you when you got hit with a baseball, you're going to do the same for him."

"That's right."

They glared at each other for a brief moment, looking like they might actually reach an agreement.

"Forget it, Pataki! You're not…"

"You know something, Tall Hair Boy? I oughtta…"

The two of them started yelling at and over one another. Phoebe looked over at Arnold with a worried look on her face. Somehow, he was still ignoring all the arguing, now trying to take off his sweater, but getting it stuck over his oversized head. She decided she'd better do something while she had a chance.

"All right, that's it! Let's go, Helga! You and me!"

"Oh, it'll be my pleasure, Geraldo!"

"That's enough! Both of you!" Gerald and Helga both backed away from Phoebe, who had stepped in to prevent things from getting ugly. "Why don't you two wake up and realize why you're fighting?" She pointed over at Arnold, who looked like he was being eaten alive by his sweater. "Now put your petty differences aside and get along, for Arnold's sake!"

Gerald and Helga looked at each other, and seemed to finally reach an understanding. Gerald spoke first, "Okay, Phoebe. You're right. Helga, sorry about that." Helga nodded in acknowledgement as Gerald turned to Arnold. "You ready, buddy?"

Helga glared at Phoebe as Gerald presumptuously approached Arnold. "Phoebe, do something!"

"Helga, I can't. Could you please just let Gerald take him home? I don't want this to get ugly."

"But Phoebe…"

"Helga, you're being selfish. I know you don't want me telling you this, but it's true. It's not your business to be taking care of Arnold. Gerald is his best friend, and he has every right to decide what happens to Arnold."

Helga sighed. She knew Phoebe was right. "Okay, I'll see you later then, Pheebs."

"I was going to walk with you if you'd like."

"No, that's okay." Helga put her hands in her skirt pockets and sulked away across the field.

Phoebe was about to go with her anyway to try and brighten her mood before Gerald called her over to the bleachers, "Hey, Phoebe? We've got a problem, here."

Helga sat down at the bus stop bench a block down the street from the field. She didn't feel like walking all the way home, and figured she'd probably be safer on the bus as the last streetlight finally began to glow over her head. She slouched down on the bench and glanced at her watch in the dim light. 7:30, the bus was due to arrive any minute.

She glanced up at the sky again. The streetlight managed to block out most of the stars, but Venus was shining brightly through. The sight of it now made it sick to her stomach. _Phoebe was right. I've got no business butting in between Arnold and Gerald like that. I should probably just butt out altogether. As long as Gerald's around, I've got no chance to get close to Arnold even if I want to._

The bus was now approaching from about a block away. Helga got up and stood at the curb, hanging her head low as she did so. The bus pulled to a stop, the doors opened, and she was about to step aboard.

"Helga! Hold on a second!"


	9. Rehabilitation

Author's notes: Wow, I'm surprised I got this thing done today! I can't complain, since as far as a college student's life and schedule goes, I've got it relatively easy. But I've weathered a brief storm of test and term papers, and I've got about a week of clear sailing as far as I can tell. So lots more writing to be done then, of course!

I enjoy reading every review that is posted, as well as the occasional e-mail correspondence. Thank you all very much. By the way, DarthRoden, I did read that chapter of "Broken Locket." It's a natural thing to include any kind of astrological reference with Arnold, considering how he probably spends a lot of time looking at the stars through his skylight.

I've got a bit more to comment on as things pertain to this chapter, but I'll put it all at the end. I wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting.

Disclaimer: I still don't own _Hey Arnold!,_ and the original "Beaned" is still written by Michelle Lamoreaux.

Helga paused halfway through the bus door. She glanced over her shoulder at the boy who called to her, running toward the bus as fast as he could. He stepped on just behind her as Murray closed the doors. Winded and gasping for breath, he spoke, "Whew! I didn't think I'd make it! Thanks, Helga!"

"Don't mention it, Eugene." Helga sulked to the back of the bus and fell into whatever sitting posture her body weight dictated. It wasn't very comfortable sitting with one arm under her leg and the other dangling off to the side, her back twisted up like a pretzel, and her head thrown completely back, but she didn't really care.

Eugene took a seat next to her, completely oblivious to her mood. "I know you're probably wondering why I'm out this late."

"No, not really."

"Well, if you have to know, tonight there's going to be an all-night _Abdicator_ marathon and it just wouldn't have been right to watch six straight hours of truth and justice without a little popcorn handy, so I took off out the door to pick up a box. Of course, my timing was off on the bus, so I had to run to catch it. And of course, I'm not that good of a runner, and never have been. It sure took a lot out of me to run after—"

"Eugene?"

"Yes, Helga?"

"Look, Miriam bought a whole case of popcorn at Pam's Club last week and Bob hasn't even touched it yet. You keep your mouth shut the rest of the way and you can take as much as you want."

"Gee, thanks, Helga. That's really nice of—"

Helga cut him off, making the familiar "cut it" signal with her fingers across her neck. The Five Avengers could have saved her time and several bags of popcorn, but she didn't have the energy for it then. The bus ride passed quickly enough, a short five minutes before Helga and Eugene found themselves in the vacant Pataki kitchen. She produced a huge 24-bag box and let him help himself to as many as he wished. Helga was about to let him out the front door when Eugene stopped to speak again.

"Helga, can I ask you something?"

She let out a somewhat exhausted sigh. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to intrude on anything that might be going on with you personally, but you appear to be upset about something."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, you've had an empty look in your eyes and a sagging frown ever since we boarded the bus. And you're also talking awfully quiet."

"Eugene, not now, okay?" She started to close the door on him as he responded.

"Helga, I don't understand. If there's something wrong, I could probably help."

Helga paused, the door now open just enough for her to poke her face through. Another sigh, followed by, "I don't need your help, Eugene. But thanks, anyway." And she shut the door without allowing him another word.

_I'll have to write him an I.O.U. from Old Betsy for that episode. Sheesh, just let me be._ Helga sulked up the stairs, listening to Bob yell at the T.V., completely absorbed in his show and not noticing her arrival home.

"W, you moron! It's a W!"

_"I'll try a W?"_

_"Yes, two W's!"_

"About time, you bunch of idiots! Just solve it already!"

_"I'd like to solve the puzzle: 'Wrong place at the wrong time.'"_

_"Yes! That's it!"_

Helga closed her bedroom door just as she heard the answer to the puzzle. _The story of my life tonight._ She sat down on her bed and looked over toward her closet door. _I really don't feel like it now…eh, what the hey?_ Across the room, into her closet she went, parting the rack of clothes she never wore and entering into her holy space. Her current embodiment of her beloved returned to one of her classic shrines, with an actual football for Arnold's head. While she still varied the parts used for his hair, hat and body, she had grown accustomed to the official NFL logo staring her back in the face.

She reached over to one of the nearby piles of colored books and pulled out a black one marked, "Serious Stuff." Very rarely had Helga written in this particular book. Most of her writing time was spent filling pink and purple books all the way up to the ceiling with poems about Arnold. It would have been a feat in itself if they were all original and unique; sometimes she slipped up and reused a poem she had read recently, changing the words to suit her fancy.

Helga picked up a black pen, in compliance with her tradition of matching the ink to the color of the book, and began:

_"I just had another reality check today. As the case has been ever since I began my obsession, I continue to encounter one of the most significant obstacles in my quest to gain the affection of my beloved: his best friend. The question is still begged as to what I have to do to get around Gerald. Of all the kids who have ever been suspicious of my behavior, besides Arnold, Gerald seems to be the most distrustful and determined to undermine it._

_"But then again, as I sit here in honest and serious thought, who can blame him? The bond between best friends is something very strong, something not easily broken or even infiltrated by another person. And when you look at it on the surface, who is more in the right, more entitled to Arnold's attention? What have I ever done to deserve Arnold's attention, let alone his love?_

_"I cannot delude myself into thinking things are the way I wish they were. I am not part of Arnold's life in the personal way one should be in order to take care of him. My silly fantasies of taking care of him are only fantasies, and nothing more. Just because I have feelings of affection and concern for him does not entitle me to be trusted with his well-being. I'm just going to have to face the facts, I guess."_

She wrote her last sentence upon reaching the point of ultimate depression. Closing the book of lamentation and leaving the closet, Helga dragged her feet across the floor and collapsed on her bed, tapped of all energy. If she had any, she might have shed a few tears. Instead, she quickly fell asleep, lacking the will to stay awake any longer.

A pounding on her bedroom door startled Helga out of her slumber.

"Hey, Olga, you still up in there? There's someone on the phone for you!"

She glanced over at her clock, which read 8:00. _Jeez, I must have barely slept ten minutes. _"Yeah, Dad. Who is it?"

"I don't know her name, it's one of your little friends."

Helga had a good idea who it was, as only one girl had business calling her house. She picked up the phone on her nightstand. "Hello?"

_"Helga? It's me."_

"Oh, hey, Pheebs. What's up?"

_"Plenty is up. Listen, we need you to come over to the boarding house right away."_ Phoebe paused to let Helga speak, but got no answer. _"Helga? Are you still there?"_

Helga was still there, only she had dropped the phone when Phoebe posed the unusual request. She scrambled to retrieve the receiver, still trying to process the information. "Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Now, Phoebe, could you repeat that again?"

_"The boarding house, Helga. We're having a small problem with Arnold and could use your help."_

"But I thought I wasn't welcome to help out with him. And what are _you_ doing over there, anyway?"

_"Gerald asked me to come along when the problem came up after you left the lot earlier. Look, it's a bit more complicated than it sounds; could you please come over?"_

"What about Gerald?"

_"It's actually Gerald's idea, he just asked me to make the call because he thought you wouldn't listen to him."_

Helga sighed, still feeling emotionally drained. "Fine, if Tall Hair Boy even wants me over there, I guess I'll be on my way."

_"Thanks, Helga."_

"Don't mention it," she mumbled as she hung up. "Something fishy's going on here. I'm the last person Gerald would want over there right now. But why should I complain? I mean, twenty minutes ago I was wallowing in my misery because I couldn't help out, and now I'm actually being invited over to do so." She finished putting her shoes back on and stood up. "Fine! They want me over there; they're going to get me! And I'm going to fix that shrimp up so he's good as new—no, better than new! This is my chance to show them all how capable Helga Pataki can be when it comes to—"

"Helga, could you keep it down please? I'm trying to sleep, dear."

"Yes, Miriam!" Helga yelled back through the wall at her mother's muffled voice. _Criminy, can't I give myself an inspirational speech once in a while?_ She tiptoed out into the hallway, down the stairs and toward the front door…

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Helga spun around and glared at Big Bob, emerging from the kitchen, bag of popcorn in hand. _Figures that he finally gets into the popcorn the minute I try to leave._ "I'm going over to a friend's house, Dad."

"Yeah? What for?"

"What do you care?"

"Hey! Don't be giving me any flack, missy! I was just making sure you're not up to no good."

"Don't worry, Bob. I'd never do anything to disgrace the great Pataki name."

"Good. And call if you're not coming home for the night."

Helga restrained her impatience and slammed the front door as quietly as she could. It was amazing how Big Bob couldn't detect even the most obvious sarcasm at times. She had to watch out, though, as sometimes he did wise up and really give her a piece of his mind. The bus had come back on its route and stopped at the curb. Murray threw the doors open, and gave Helga a questioning look. "Didn't I just bring you home when I was going the other way?"

"I wasn't planning on going out again, but something important came up."

"Really? Where are you going?"

"The ice cream shop."

Murray laughed. "I know how that is! Sometimes you just get that craving and you have to fill it right this second!"

"I wasn't talking about Slausen's, Murray."

He turned to look at her as she sat in the front seat by the door. She gave him the message via her eyes and he realized what she really meant. "Well, Vine Street's not on my route tonight, but seeing as how you're the only one on the bus, I guess I can take you over there."

Grandpa opened the door and glanced down at the visitor. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"Um, my friend called me on the phone and asked me to come over and see how Arnold was doing."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong house, there's no one by that name living here."

"But this is Arnold's house, I've been here before and—"

"Aw, I'm just pulling your leg! I do that with all his little friends at least once when they come over, confuses the heck out of 'em! Come on in, they've got him 'quarantined' up in his room."

"…Right." Helga entered the boarding house, her focus, which she had been building up on the bus ride, now shaken. She quickly climbed the stairs in order to escape any more shenanigans from the wily patriarch and her mind started to race with her feet. _Just relax, Helga. There's nothing to worry about yet; you don't even know why you're here._ She found herself at the top of the steps to Arnold's room. A deep breath, and she knocked.

The door opened, and Gerald greeted Helga, "About time you got over here!"

"Whatever, Gerald; just tell me what I'm doing here."

"Didn't Phoebe tell you?"

"She said it was too complicated to say over the phone."

"It probably is. Okay, come in here and see for yourself." Gerald stepped aside and let Helga enter Arnold's room. Phoebe was sitting over by Arnold's computer desk, briskly writing on a memo pad. Helga then took a look at what Phoebe was observing and recording.

Arnold was sitting on his bed, surrounded by several things he had been pulling down from the shelves around his bed. He was currently fiddling with his potato clock, rearranging the wires and messing with the hands. He completely reversed the wiring and turned the clock on, prompting the alarm to sound, "Dlonra Yeh! Dlonra Yeh!"

Puzzled, Helga joined Phoebe and Gerald in the opposite corner of the room. "What the heck is he doing?"

"He's been acting like this since we got him back here. Gerald and I have been trying to talk to him the whole time, but he keeps telling us he only wants to talk to someone else."

"And who would that someone be?"

Phoebe glanced at the floor, dodging the question.

"Oh, no way. Phoebe, come on, you've got to be kidding."

Phoebe shook her head, a small grin now on her face.

"Believe me, if he didn't want to talk to you, I wouldn't have let you come within a hundred yards of this house," Gerald interrupted.

"Who asked you?"

Phoebe jumped in before Helga could start something with Gerald, "Helga, just go over and sit down next to him. He hasn't noticed you've come in yet. See what happens when you get his attention."

Helga took a big gulp in the back of her throat and crept over toward the bed. Arnold was entirely engrossed in the potato clock, taking the back cover off and fiddling with the mechanisms inside. She sat down and watched him pull on a spring. He was completely fascinated by the spring's physical properties, watching it stretch out when he tugged on it and then snap back into the clock when he let it go.

"Hey Arnold, you've got a visitor sitting next to you."

Helga wanted to leap off the bed and strangle Gerald for calling attention to her presence, but she was immediately pinned to the bed.

"Helga, you came over! I'm so glad to see you again!" he exclaimed as he squeezed Helga tightly in a bear-like hug.

"Phoebe, Gerald," she uttered as she gasped for air, "would you mind getting him off me?"

"You see what we're talking about now, Helga? I don't know what it is or why, but he just kept demanding that we bring you to him."

"I'm sure it must have killed you to employ my services, Tall Hair—ow! Watch it, Phoebe!"

"Sorry, Helga, I'm trying my best to pry him loose without causing you any discomfort."

Gerald and Phoebe finally managed to pry Helga loose from Arnold's karate-like grip. Helga jumped back to her feet and moved away from the bed. "If I'm supposed to help out, you two need to find a way to restrain him!"

"Don't worry, I'll handle it." Gerald got Arnold's attention and calmly spoke to him, "Look, Arnold, we brought Helga over like you wanted. Now you've got to treat her with some respect, buddy. Don't just be throwing your arms around her for no reason…even if it is pretty funny watching her squirm."

"Hey! You better watch what you say, Bucko, or you'll have my arms around you choking your lights out!"

"Helga, let Gerald finish!" Phoebe quipped.

"I'm sorry, Helga," Arnold spoke up. "I was just really happy to see you, that's all."

Helga turned off to one side, arms crossed. "Yeah, well, just make sure it doesn't happen again, Footba—I mean, Arnold."

Gerald raised an eyebrow at Helga's sudden choice of words. "Look, can we just get through with whatever we need to get Arnold back to normal? I'm sick of having to deal with him like this."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple, Gerald," Phoebe interjected. "Most likely Arnold will slowly progress back into his normal state on his own. We have to be flexible and adapt our behavior to his needs."

"Phoebe, I love the intelligent language and all, but can you put that a little more plainly?"

Phoebe frowned at her words falling on deaf ears. "Just do what he says 'til he's back to normal."

"Aw! We'll be here all night doing all sorts of weird crap! Can't we just make him go to sleep so he wakes up tomorrow and forgets the whole thing ever happened?"

"I suppose it's a possible course of action, but maybe we should—"

"I'm with Gerald on this one, Pheebs. Let's just hit him over the head with something and knock him out so we can go about our business."

"Hey, now we're talking!" Gerald rubbed his hands together at Helga's suggestion. "What do you think we should do it with?"

"Let's look around. It should be something that'll put him out quick but won't hurt him too bad."

Gerald rummaged through Arnold's closet. "What about his baseball bat?"

Helga glanced over from her search under his bed. "Nah, that'd probably make him even worse. Hey, what about this?"

"His magic 8-ball? Maybe, but what if it doesn't work? We only get one try before he figures out what we're doing."

"What am I going to figure out?" Arnold had been watching them go through his things with a strong feeling of curiosity. "What do you mean when you say you're going to 'knock me out?'"

Gerald smiled at him from the closet. "Don't worry about it, man. You'll find out in a second."

Phoebe watched Gerald and Helga making their rounds and comparing hard, blunt objects for use on Arnold's head. She wanted to stop them immediately, but was worried Arnold might figure out what "knock out" referred to and decided to wait and see how far they got.

"Hey, Helga, look in that box he keeps on the top shelf by the skylight. I think he's got one of Mickey Kaline's fly balls in there."

"Ooh, I like the way you think. A baseball ought to do the trick." Helga climbed the ladder in the wall next to Arnold's bed and searched the top shelf box for the prize. "I got it!"

"Great! Bring it down here!" Gerald and Helga congregated by the bedside and examined the baseball.

"Gerald?"

"Yeah, what is it, Phoebe? You want the honor, Helga?"

"I don't mean to intrude, but I don't think this is the best way to handle the situation."

"Aw, put a sock in it, Pheebs! We've got everything under control, and I'd be happy to do the honors." She snatched the ball from Gerald's hands and positioned herself behind Arnold on the bed.

Gerald spoke to Arnold in preparation. "Now, just hold still, buddy. Helga's going to show you what 'knock out' refers to."

"Neat! Show me, Helga!" Arnold turned and smiled up at Helga in anticipation.

Helga stood over him, holding the ball over her head, ready to slam it down on her oversized target. She was about to go through with it when her true feelings reclaimed control of her body. _You've got to be kidding me. I'm actually going to hit Arnold over the head with a baseball? Intentionally?_ She frowned and dropped the ball behind her, landing harmlessly on the bed.

"Oh, come on! The ruthless bully, Helga G. Pataki, not knocking Arnold out cold when given the chance? It's for his own good!"

"I may be the bane of P.S. 118's existence, but even I won't stoop as low as to hit an innocent kid when his defenses are lowered like this."

"Surely you can't be serious."

"I am completely serious. I came over here to help him get better, not increase the size of his concussion."

Gerald was speechless. He had never seen Helga like this. Was she actually concerned about Arnold's well-being? Phoebe, pleased with the turn of events, spoke up, "What do you think we should do, Helga?"

Helga, now in complete control of Arnold's fate, decreed, "You two can step outside; I've got things under control here."

Phoebe and Gerald looked at each other, exchanging glances. Gerald seemed to ask if it was such a good idea, and Phoebe gave him a look of approval. Gerald then sighed, "Okay, then; I'm trusting you now, Helga. Don't do anything you'll regret later."

"I _said_ I've got things under control; don't worry about it."

With that, Gerald and Phoebe left the room. Phoebe stopped at the door and turned back to Helga, giving her a thumbs-up. Helga smirked at the gesture, feeling very proud of herself in what she had just done. She had conquered her most difficult and stubborn obstacle, obtaining the trust of Arnold's best friend! Only an hour ago she had been on the verge of total breakdown, frustrated to no end by this seemingly impossible situation. But now things were going her way, and she had to follow through on her professed concerns.

She hopped down off the bed, which she'd been standing on since going up to retrieve the baseball. Arnold was again messing with the potato clock, now trying to put it back together. Helga took a deep breath, and gathered herself for what would be her best performance yet.

The extra notes: Notice that I never said how many parts there would be to this mini-series of chapters! I'll probably be able to wrap things up next time, when we'll finally get to the "good stuff." I hope no one's bitter about the fact that I keep holding off on the H/A material, but the pace of the story is dictating to me that the plot should move very slowly, so that I can develop the other character relationships completely (especially Helga and Gerald, I think there's an interesting situation there when you consider Arnold as a common factor in their lives).

With my brief solace from the usual homework load, I think I can get the next chapter up by the end of the weekend. Cross your fingers and thanks for reading.


	10. Ice Cream

Author's note: Blatant grammatical errors are very annoying. This chapter has thus been re-updated 11-17-2003.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Hey Arnold!_

Helga began, "So…"

Arnold looked up at Helga as he continued to mess with his alarm clock, smiling with anticipation for what she would say.

"I was…just wondering…did you want to talk about anything in particular?"

He shrugged. "It's kind of funny. I wanted to see you again to ask you about stuff; but now that you're here, I don't really know where to start."

_As if my job wasn't hard enough as it is, _Helga thought quickly as she stared at the floor. _I need something to get this conversation going._ "Okay, why don't we talk about who your friends are? Maybe that can help spark some memories."

"All right, are you supposed to be one of my friends?"

Helga laughed nervously at that question. "Me? Well, uh…there's not a simple answer to that question, per se."

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked as he put the clock and the other things he'd been messing with aside.

"I mean…uh, why don't we start with someone else and come back to me later?"

He raised an eyebrow at her strong desire to avoid being the subject of discussion. "Okay, then, who were the two kids that were here before you?"

_Phew! I thought he'd really start grilling me there for a second!_ "Those two? Let's see, the one with the tall hair and the red shirt was Gerald."

"Gerald. Yeah, they both told me their names. The girl's name was Phoebe, right?"

"Right. Gerald's supposed to be your best friend. You two have known each other since preschool, I think."

"You think?"

"Hey, give me a break, here! I'm not the expert when it comes to your life!" She immediately regretted her choice of words, preferring to cleverly disguise the truth rather than tell what she knew was an outright lie. Helga could recall Arnold's daily routine, minute-by-minute, on command. She might as well be the official source for anything related to Arnold.

Moving past her actual choice of words, Helga was also concerned about raising her tone of voice as she had just done. She was worried she would create a bad impression on his clean slate of a mind. Surprisingly, though, he appeared to take a positive interest in her change in tone. "Tell me more, Helga."

"Fine, but just keep your distance there, Bucko!" This unnatural human response to aggression threw Helga off her game a bit. At the same time, it occurred to her that it might be advantageous to act like her normal, brute self. Arnold seemed to actually be attracted to that side of her now.

He complied with her request and backed away a couple feet along the bed. "Sorry, Helga. Can you tell me more about Gerald and Phoebe? Helga?"

"Huh? Oh, right. I just thought I saw something up there by the window."__

"Hey, I brought some popcorn with me on account of I don't how long the show's going to be."

"I don't know if this was such a good idea. I think they've spotted us."

"Oh, don't worry; they can't really see us out here. I've eavesdropped on the boy plenty of times like this. You see, the glass is installed at just the right angle so the light in the room reflects back at them, making it difficult to see out at night."

"Reflective glass, of course. I should have thought of that."

"So why didn't your little friend want to stay and watch the show with us?"

"I don't know. I would have thought he'd want to make sure Helga didn't try anything funny while the two of them were left alone."

"It seemed more like he was sick of dealing with Arnold to me. Kept muttering about how Arnold couldn't remember anything, no matter how hard he tried."

"Gerald does tend to lose patience with matters such as these. From what I've seen since I've known him, he has a strong desire for everything to be normal all the time."

"Well, speaking of you 'knowing him,' pardon my mentioning it but you two seem to be—"

"Oh, not quite, yet. Gerald doesn't want to declare us an 'official' couple, at least for now."

"Got a bit of the cold feet, eh? I know what that's like."

"Did you ever hold off on a relationship like that, sir?"

"No, but I spent a whole weekend ice fishing once without my shoes. I just plain forgot them before I went out the door. I was lucky to save eight of my toes!"

"Oh my! How horrible!"

"Yeah, it was…oh, wait a minute. I forgot you're not wise to my mischievous nature like Arnold. You can calm down, that didn't really happen, see."

"Yes, I do see. Well, that's a relief."

"What really happened was I lost _all_ of my toes!"

"You're still pulling my leg, right?"

"Hey, now you're catching on! You'll get to the point where you can spot 'em coming from a mile away like Arnold. Only a matter of time."

"So does he have a real name?"

"Nope. As far as everyone knows, his name is Peapod Kid."

"Wow, that's pretty strange. Is there anyone else in our class that you haven't mentioned to me already?"

"No, that's pretty much it."

The two of them sat in silence again. Arnold hesitantly spoke up, unable to restrain himself from asking, "Are you going to tell me anything about how you fit into all this?"

Helga slapped her hand to her forehead and drew it down across her face in a stressful manner. It was an inevitable question, how could she have blatantly overlooked it while scheming to get him alone? The romantic aspect of coming to Arnold's aid had blinded her to the reality of the situation: Arnold was experiencing amnesia, a bona fide medical condition that required a great deal of caution and patience on the assistant's part. Past that, though, she hadn't considered how frank she would have to be in answering Arnold's questions.

It all boiled down to two choices for Helga as it pertained to telling Arnold about herself.

"So tell me…Phoebe, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, I was just curious as to how aware you were to how the girl feels about the boy."

"You mean Helga's crush on Arnold? How did you know about that?"

"Well, besides you just confirming it for me, it's pretty obvious from what I've seen. That one week where he kept coming home a mess everyday, feathers glued to his rear end and paint all over his sweater, made it clear."

"I seem to remember that. I was working in their group on that particular project."

"You don't say? Tell me, how did you come to learn about her little secret?"

"Much in the same way you did, mostly by observation. I agree with you about how obvious it is that she's got a crush on him. I've heard it discussed before about how a large amount of attention, even as negative as it appears to be coming from her, can indicate feelings of this nature."

"But she's never actually told you?"

"Well, she's never explained the whole thing to me in detail, but she does know that I know. Occasionally, when she's got a problem related to him and she comes to me for help, she'll refer to him in code, calling him 'ice cream' or something along those lines."

"Say, now that you bring it up, I sure could go for some ice cream after drying out my mouth on all that popcorn. What do you say, after she gets through with him in there, we all go down to Slausen's?"

"That'd be nice, assuming we're not waiting up here all night. Knowing Helga, we could still be a while."

"Helga, why can't you tell me how more about how you're supposed to fit into my life?"

"I told you, I just can't!"

"That's not a reason."

"Oh, for crying out loud! I'll tell you one thing, you haven't forgotten how to interrogate people like some kind of detective grilling his suspect for answers!"

"I'm not trying to grill you. It just seems kind of weird for you to keep dodging the question for no apparent reason."

"Look, pal, I've got a reason!"

"All right, so tell me what it is."

Helga wanted to smack Arnold more than anything in the world. Why couldn't he just sit there and let her run the show like she wanted? She had planned on telling him everything, in some kind of ill-conceived attempt to reprogram Arnold's thoughts about her. Instead, she had made it overly clear to Arnold that she had an issue she didn't want to discuss, and simply acting on his natural instincts which he'd still retained, the curiosity and questioning ensued.

_The more I think about it, what have I really got to lose? He's not going to remember any of this after he gets better; at least, I think he won't. Either way, I can't keep this up. I might as well come clean with him._

"Oh, I think this is it."

"Really? What is it? They're not going to do anything I need to go in and break up, are they?"

"I'm almost certain they're not. I've seen this look that Helga's got on her face before. It's the look she gets when she's being really serious and honest about something."

"How can you tell that just by her look?"

"It's the same look she's had every time she's been frank and honest with me about something. I could be wrong, but that's what I'm sensing here."

"Okay, then. But if they start swapping spit, I'll be in there faster than you can say 'raspberry cobbler.'"

"What do you mean there's two sides to the story?"

"Just shut up and listen! You wanted me to explain everything to you!"

"Okay, okay!"

Helga exhumed her breath in frustration at the continued difficulty she was experiencing, "Criminy, Football Head!"

"What did you just call me?"

Another slip of the tongue…or was it? Helga decided to run with it. "I called you 'Football Head!' Are you deaf?"

As she expected, Arnold's interest grew as she threw insults at him. "Is that something you call me all the time?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. And you're supposed to hate it when I call you that!" she said in response to his drawing in closer.

"Helga, I can't really explain it. You keep telling me these are supposed to be insults, but I'm not feeling insulted."

"Then what exactly are you feeling?"

"I…don't know."

Helga blushed, knowing exactly to what Arnold was referring. She then gave herself the fail-safe slap to the face, restoring her composure. "Just so you know, we're not supposed to be friends in real life!"

Arnold paused in his approach. "Really? What, do you mean we're like, enemies or something?"

Helga was somewhat interested to test the limits of this new affection Arnold was holding for her. "Yeah, that's right. We're mortal enemies in our real lives. We absolutely _hate_ each other's guts!"

He sat and digested what he just heard. "Wow…you sure about that? Because, to be honest, I really like you right now."

Her heart melted at hearing those words, but she couldn't melt along with it at the moment. "That's just swell, Arnoldo, but it doesn't change anything. We're still on the opposite sides of the line, whether you like or not."

Arnold showed a look of disappointment on his face, as Helga was expecting. She was foreseeing the rest of the conversation, trying to keep things going the way she wanted them to. Still, even she wasn't completely sure which way she actually wanted to go with him at this point.

_Okay, Helga, now just lead him back like a trained dog._ "Look, maybe I'm being a little hard on you. Tell you what, just this one time, since you're so sweet about it, I'll let you hang out with me like we're friends."

Helga then sat back, waiting for her fish to take the bait. The wait was short, as Arnold's face brightened up and he latched onto her again as he had done when she had first arrived.

"Okay, you two! That's just about far enough!" came a loud, raspy voice from above. Helga and Arnold quickly looked up to spot Grandpa barging into the room through the skylight, with Phoebe tailing closely behind.

Helga was on his case immediately. "I knew something was going on out there! How long have you two been up there watching us?"

"Long enough, I'd say. Listen, young Phoebe and I were up there talking about you two when the topic of ice cream came up."

She wasn't quite sure of what he was referring to, but Helga's suspicion was aroused at the old man's use of her Arnold code name. "What about ice cream? Phoebe, how much does he know? I want answers!"

Phoebe went to Helga's side. "Helga, calm down. We were just thinking it'd be a nice idea to head down to Slausen's and get some ice cream before they close."

"Oh, come on, Phoebe! What kind of lame excuse is—wait a minute, who's all going down there?"

"Everyone, of course! Come on, we'll take the Packard." Grandpa opened the bedroom door to lead the group down to the car when he ran into an obstacle on the stairs.

"Oh, hello, Grandpa! I couldn't help but overhear on my way from the bathroom something about a trip to the ice cream shop."

"You're not invited, Oscar!"

"Come on, I'll pay for my share, I promise!"

"That's what you always say and then you never bring any money! No freebies tonight, you swindler!"

The two old guys continued on down the hall arguing, followed by Arnold, listening intently, and Helga and Phoebe behind him.

"So what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff. I brought him up to speed on pretty much everything."

"That's great. What did you tell him as it pertains to…you know?"

"I told him how it is."

"Really? You mean—"

"Yeah, we're mortal enemies and stuff, but then I told him we could be friends tonight if he wanted."

"Oh, so you didn't really—"

"Nope."

"Was it because you weren't—"

"Mm-hmm."

"But were you planning to—"

"Wait and see."

"Okay."

"And Phoebe?"

"Forgetting!"

"Okay, Kokoshka, give me your share."

"Yeah, about that…"

"I knew it! That's the last time I'm taking you anywhere, and I really mean it this time!"

The kids took their orders from the counter and snuck away from the unending bickering to find a table. Helga and Phoebe sat on one side, Arnold across from Helga. "So what's this supposed to be anyway?" he asked.

"It's a banana split, moron."

Arnold nodded in mild understanding. "Am I supposed to do something with this thing?"

Helga looked up from her Yahoo float to see the subject Arnold's query, the spoon. This again brought back the memory of her own beaning, something she was trying to repress during the course of the evening. "You use that to eat the ice cream, doi!"

"Eat?"

Helga glared at him. "You know, scoop the ice cream into your mouth and swallow! Jeez, what a dingbat!"

Phoebe sat and observed Helga's seemingly harsh method of instructing Arnold in dining etiquette. It made no sense in her mind for Helga to be so rash and rude with him in such a vulnerable state. She leaned over and whispered to Helga, "Are you sure you need to be so mean to him?"

"I know what I'm doing, just clam up!" Helga hissed back. Indeed, it was all part of her plan. She was going to push his buttons until he either snapped back to normal or lunged at her in an attracted fury (she was hoping for the latter, of course).

The girls' attention returned to Arnold, who was having a small amount of luck with the spoon. About half of what boarded it reached his mouth, the rest falling on his shirt, in his lap, over the table, or a combination of the three.

"Hey, Arnold, you want a bib or something?" Helga continued to heckle him.

"What's a bib?"

"It's what babies wear to keep the food from getting all over them. You look like you could use about half a dozen! What a yutz!"

Arnold laughed, much to Helga's delight. _That's it, now let's balance the punishment out like before with a small dose of affection._ Helga reached over to a cup by the table edge, pulled out a bendy-straw, and plunked it in what remained of her float. "You're driving me nuts making that mess over there, why don't you try some of this instead?"

Laughter subsiding, Arnold slid the bowl, now a banana-chocolate medley of a mess, aside and drew over Helga's float. He eyed the straw. "What do I do with this?"

"Put it in your mouth and you'll figure it out."

He obeyed, wrapping his lips around the straw and instinctively drawing the fizzing soft-serve into his mouth. Helga then leaned across the table and joined him on her own straw. _This is too good! And the sad part is it was almost too easy! But still, I can't complain; I've got Arnold sharing an ice cream float with me, and all I had to do with be my usual, tortuous self!_

Grandpa finally came over to the table, carrying his own ice cream cone as well as the one he refused to give to Oscar after not being paid for it, which led to Oscar's departure. At first glance he only noticed the float Arnold and Helga were sharing, "Oh, isn't that cute? I used to come in here when this place first opened and share sodas with girls like that all the time. Hey, wait a minute, what's this mess?" He took notice of the ice cream smeared all over the table and Arnold's clothes and then looked at Helga and Phoebe. "You two know he's all messed up in the head; why didn't you help him out with the spoon?"

"Hey, he'd already made a pretty big mess by the time we'd noticed it!" Helga's put her fantasy on hold for the moment.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Come on, Arnold, let's get you cleaned up."

Grandpa motioned for Arnold to follow him to the bathroom. Arnold slid out of the booth and went to follow. On his first step, however, his shoe found a small chunk of banana. He slipped and fell, his head smacking against the end of the table as he accelerated toward the floor.

Helga instinctively dove out of her seat and came to Arnold's side, rolling him over to check on his head. Amazingly, a small bump was all to be found, the result of a fall that appeared violent enough to split Arnold's skull wide open. Apparently he was dense in more ways than he appeared to be. Still, despite the minority of the injury, he still lay unconscious.

Grandpa came rushing back after hearing Arnold's head make contact with the table. "Wow, I haven't seen someone take a spill like that since…well, it's been a while!"

Mr. Slausen himself came over in a panic as well. "Oh my God, is he okay? Please tell me he's okay! I don't want another lawsuit on my hands!"

"He's fine, you babbling ninny! Don't start calling your lawyers just yet!"

Slausen and Grandpa continued to talk as Helga slapped Arnold around with Phoebe observing with concern. "Come on, wake up, Arnold! Oh, things were going so well! Why did you have to slip and fall?"

"Helga, I don't think you should be shaking him so violently."

Helga released Arnold upon Phoebe's request, realizing she was getting a bit carried away in her concern. "Thanks, Pheebs. Is there a glass of water nearby?"

Phoebe looked around and spotted a half-full cup on a table in an adjacent booth. "Here you go, Helga. Are you going to do what I think—yeah, you did."

Immediately upon getting splashed in the face by Helga, Arnold came to. He sat up in a state of shock, looking around with a worried look on his face. "What's going on? Where am I?"

"Oh, Arnold! You're awake!" Grandpa helped Arnold get to his feet.

"Grandpa, why are we at Slausen's right now? Why am I covered in ice cream? I thought we were playing baseball."

"Whoa, someone needs a little bringing up to speed! Helga, tell him what's been going on; Slausen wants me to sign some kind of release form so I can't sue him for anything."

"Wait, I'm pretty sure you can do a better job than me! Gramps?" Helga slowly and nervously directed her attention to Arnold. The situation was no longer in her favor; Arnold was apparently back to normal and looked like he wanted some answers. "So, how you feeling?"

"My head hurts pretty bad. What happened to me?"

"Ludwig threw a pitch right at your head back at the ball game. He hit you right there." Helga pointed to Arnold's right temple.

"Ow!" he exclaimed as he reached up to feel the bruise that remained from where the ball had connected. "Did we win the game or what?"

"No, everyone kinda just left after you got hit."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was supposed to be home ten minutes ago." Phoebe slid out of the booth and whispered to Helga as she went by, "Try not to stretch the truth too far with him."

"I'm not making any promises," Helga breathed back.

Phoebe bid Arnold goodnight and left. Helga and Arnold were once again alone, with Mr. Slausen continuing to campaign for Grandpa not to press any charges in the back room, and no other customers remaining in the shop.

"I need to sit down," Arnold sighed and took a seat across from Helga. "So tell me, Helga, how did I get hit with a baseball at Gerald Field and wake up at Slausen's three hours later?"

"Well, you see…" Helga hesitated to give Arnold the true answer. Maybe an excuse could let her bail on her failed scheme? "Why are you asking me, anyway? Who says I know?"

"My grandpa seems to think you know."

_Drat, he saw through that one! What's the use? He's getting too good for my futile attempts to dodge questions._ "Okay, Arnold, you're right. I know what happened to you. The hit to the head knocked you out cold and gave you amnesia."

"Really? I had amnesia?"

"Yes, amnesia. You didn't know anything, and Gerald and Phoebe had to take you home."

"Wow. So then how did I get to Slausen's?"

"Well, after they got you home they called…" Helga trailed off.

"Who did they call?"

_Just tell him! You can't get out of it!_ "They called me and asked me to come over."

"You?"

"Yes, me! Who else does 'me' refer to? Sheesh!"

"But why you, Helga?"

"You want to know why? Here's why, and this is the truth! They told me you wanted to see me again."

"'Again?' When did I see you before?"

"At the field when you first woke up, doi!"

"What did you do to make me want to see you after that?"

"I didn't do anything! You were acting like some little kid who'd just seen a girl for the first time!"

"You mean…I had a crush on you?"

Music to Helga's ears, she boldly affirmed it, "Yes! That's exactly right!"

A puzzled look came over Arnold's face. "There's no way that's true."

"Of course it is, Paste for Brains! You think I'd make something like that up? I could come up with better material than claiming you had some kind of la-di-da crush on me!"

Still acting confused, and not accepting her answer entirely, Arnold continued, "So how did I end up here then?"

"Your grandpa brought us all down here when he got an ice cream craving or something. We got you a banana split, and after you made a mess trying to eat it, your grandpa came to take you to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and you slipped and hit your head on this table."

"And then I woke up?"

"Yup."

"Did you tell me everything?"

_Let's see, he played with my bow, told me he liked my name, hugged me twice without any provocation or warning, and shared a Yahoo float with me._ "Yeah, that's pretty much it, Hair Boy."

He stood up to go meet Grandpa, who had just finished talking with Mr. Slausen, by the door. "Man, what a day. Well, thanks for filling me in on all the details, Helga. If it's really true that you came over to help me out when I was all screwed up, then I guess I owe you a 'thanks.'"

Helga averted her gaze as he spoke to her. "Yeah, yeah, just don't say I never did you any favors."

"I won't. Have a good night, Helga."

"Whatever, see you in the funny papers." Helga turned her eyes back in Arnold's direction as he turned and walked out of the ice cream shop. The empty feeling she'd had when she fell asleep the first time that evening returned, now stronger than ever. She put her head down on the table and rested there until Mr. Slausen finally came over to escort her out.


	11. Mismatched

Author's notes: Thank you for all the reviews and message board mentions! I have to comment: It seems some people got the impression that I might have ended the story at chapter ten. Let me calm any worries or wonderings right now by giving this story a rough estimate of thirty chapters. That number will vary, depending on the ideas that pop up in my head along the way.

Moving on, I have to say apologize for the long wait on this chapter. It's not that I'm bogged down with schoolwork or anything; I've just been taking a little more time with the writing. I should really start cranking out the chapters when December rolls around. Until then, enjoy as it comes!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Hey Arnold!_

"Don't look now, but here comes the culprit himself."

Arnold looked up from his lunch at Gerald's remark to spot Ludwig approaching the table, flanked by Wolfgang and the rest of their cronies. Arnold leaned over and lowered his voice to Gerald, "Do you think they ever get tired of bugging us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just don't know what kind of enjoyment they get out of harassing us all the time. We never react or get upset by what they pull; I thought that was the only reason they went to all this trouble."

"Maybe they're picking on us because they like us?"

"Come on, Gerald; would you hurl a baseball at the head of someone you liked?"

"I know, I know! I'm just saying."

"Hey, Football Face!" Wolfgang shouted over Ludwig's shoulder, grabbing the two fifth graders' attention. "Looks like you're still worse for wear after that beaning Ludwig gave you yesterday!"

"Yeah, you guys messed me up pretty bad," Arnold replied sarcastically. He turned back to his lunch, ignoring Ludwig's now towering presence at the head of the table.

"Hey! Don't be looking down when we're talking to you!"

Arnold gave Ludwig the half-lidded look, as if to offer half of his attention.

Ludwig looked over the current state of Arnold's head, the lump from the afternoon prior swollen to about the size of a golf ball. He whistled at the sight of it, "Man, I didn't know I had that much in me."

"Yeah, some pitch," Gerald muttered from the other side of the table.

"Excuse me, was I talking to you? Open your mouth again and you'll be wearing that afro as a scarf!"

"Dude, sweet insult!" Wolfgang chimed in.

"Yeah, that was pretty good!" The two bullies gave each other five and started ribbing each other, basking in their co-presence.

"If you guys are through, we'd like to go back to our lunches."

Ludwig and Wolfgang suddenly stopped and glared at Arnold, as if he were the one intruding on them. "You've got a pretty big mouth for a punk who just got his lights dimmed. Why don't we see if we can make you forget a few more things?" Wolfgang asked, brandishing his fist in Arnold's face.

"All right! Let him have it, Wolf…uh, on second thought, maybe we should leave him alone."

Wolfgang spun around and got in Ludwig's face instead. "What are you talking about? I thought we were going to have some fun with them."

"Uh, yeah, that's what I said _before,_ but…you know, maybe we've done enough already?"

"Are you sure you didn't get hit in the head yourself? Come on, let's pound 'em!"

"Nah, let's wait until a little later. I, uh…I'm getting kind of hungry, let's go get something to eat."

Wolfgang looked at him, puzzled, and finally shrugged it off. "Whatever, I guess we can whale on 'em after school." With that, the two of them left, Ludwig leading the way, walking at a brisk pace, almost in flight.

Gerald and Arnold turned to each other with matching looks of confusion on their faces. "Okay, tell me what just happened here, Arnold."

"I don't know. It's like Ludwig wanted to get away for some reason, like he was scared."

"What could have possibly scared off Ludwig at this table?"

A lunch tray smacked down next to Arnold's at that moment, as if to answer Gerald's question. The tray's owner sat down and was joined shortly by her companion. Arnold turned to speak to his new neighbor but was cut off, "Don't start getting any ideas. I'm only sitting here because all the other tables are full. Phoebe wanted to sit over here, anyway."

With that, Helga went silent and ate her lunch in an atypical peace. Gerald took little regard of what she said and started talking to Phoebe. Arnold, however, was puzzled by the relatively calm and subdued tone in which Helga spoke. He was about to interrogate her in his usual, detective-like fashion when someone else drew away his attention. His new subject approached the table, eyeing the one seat left at the five-chair round.

"Is this seat taken, Arnold?"

"No, of course not! Would you like to sit down?"

"Oh, I'm ever-so certain I would."

Lila sat down on Arnold's left, while a glass bottle clanked down on the table to his right. He glanced at Helga, who had dropped her Yahoo at the sight of Ms. Perfect, spilling the chocolate beverage on her lunch tray and pink dress. She quickly darted her eyes from Lila back to Arnold, spouting, "What?" and giving him her patented scowl. _Looks like she's back to normal,_ he thought as he returned his attention to Lila.

"I really like your outfit today, Lila. It looks really nice."

"Thanks, but I'm ever-so sure that it's the same thing I wear everyday."

"I know, but it just looks great today in particular."

The sound of glass again interrupted the conversation, this time by Helga slamming what left of her Yahoo down on the table. The whole group took notice now, prompting Helga to scowl at everyone, barking, "What? Can't I drink a soda without you morons looking at me?"

The four others went back to their own conversations, passing it off as normal Helga behavior. She continued to listen in on Arnold and Lila's conversation, squeezing her soda bottle in an effort to control her spontaneous responses.

"Were you doing anything after school, Lila?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, no. But…"

"But what? Don't tell me you're still thinking about what happened last week."

"Arnold, that's not it."

"What is it then?"

Helga took a small amount of solace in the fact that Arnold was fair and equal when it came to his rapid-fire questioning. She watched Lila in anticipation, ready to see her try and come up with some clever answer like she always did.

"It's just that…it feels too much like we're going out on a date or something."

Helga watched in delight as Arnold's shoulders seemed to sink all the way to the floor.

Lila continued, "Arnold, as I've told you before, I truly value our friendship and wouldn't want to do anything to ruin that right now. But please don't take it so hard. You know, I meant what I said at the end of the Cheese Festival last year."

Arnold perked up. "You mean, even after last week, you're saying I've still got a chance?"

"I suppose it's still possible. After all, who's to say how we'll feel a few years down the line?"

"Yeah. That sounds—" Arnold was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. Reluctantly, he turned around to discover the Yahoo bottle in pieces on the table and in Helga's hand.

Helga stared at her bleeding hand in amazement as Phoebe stepped over to give her a hand. "Helga, are you okay? How did that happen?"

"I don't know. Guess I got a little careless," she fibbed. In her disgust at hearing Lila offering Arnold another chance, Helga had squeezed her soda so hard her hand went right through it.

"Hey, you might want to get that looked at," Gerald said, staring at Helga's hand with a queasy look on his face.

"I agree. Someone should take her to the nurse's office."

"Nah, that's okay, Pheebs."

"I'll take you, Helga."

"No! I mean…" Helga stuttered for an answer after Arnold offered his assistance. "Just…leave me alone. I can handle it." She took off out the cafeteria door, grabbing a pile of napkins for her hand as she went.

The four others at the table looked at each other for a moment before Gerald began and ended the discussion, "I'll never understand that girl as long as I live."

Alone in the hallway, Helga spoke her thoughts aloud.

"That sure didn't take long! One week after their little fight, and the two of them are already back to the same old bit: Arnold likes her likes her, Lila only likes him, and both of them want the other to feel the same as themselves. Am I the only one on the planet who sees that those two are going absolutely nowhere? Then again, they really deserve each other, the way they play off the other's emotions. Arnold tries to appeal to her by flattery all the time. He throws more compliments at her in a minute than Old Betsy throws punches in a week! Lila eats it all up, and in an effort to keep him around and worshipping the ground she walks on, she continues to lure, holding the bone in front of his nose for him to go fetch.

"And you'd think eventually he'd figure it out, but no! This is Arnold we're talking about here! It doesn't matter how bleak things look; he just keeps pressing on. That's great if it's for a good cause, but this is _Lila!_ Hitler will come back from the dead and take over the world before Arnold even begins to approach first base with that girl!"

Helga stopped at her locker on her way. As she went to grab her "math" book, she took a glance down at her hand, lifting the napkin to watch the blood slowly refill the cut like water rushing down a canal. "This whole thing is Lila's fault. All she needs to do is install some strings in Arnold's limbs and she'll finishing making him into her puppet." Helga's frustration began to force itself out in the form of small tears as she trailed off in her speech. She rested her temple on the locker next to hers, thinking about the strange history Arnold and Lila shared.

As much as she hated to recall the particular event, since she played the sole role in its taking place, her mind went back to the day in fourth grade when she wrote the words on that wall: "Arnold loves Lila." It didn't read that initially, of course; in her cowardice, she bailed on her initial phrase, which placed Arnold's affection in her favor. This, she felt, resulted in the chain of events that followed: Lila read the words and returned Arnold's supposed affection. Arnold went along with it for a few days and then told her he didn't feel the way she did. She accepted his answer and stopped liking him that way; but at the same time, Arnold realized he actually was attracted to her.

"Arnold said he liked her liked her that next day in the park, but Lila had already made up her mind that she didn't. She told him that…and it should have ended there!" Helga slammed her locker shut, bringing her voice to a full yell. "She couldn't have been any clearer about it, Arnold! She doesn't like you like you! Get it through your thick skull!"

Helga turned around and slammed her back up against the closed locker door. "Well, it looks pretty clear to me now. The only way this pointless charade will come to an end is if _I_ do something about it. I've got to be quick; I've got to be effective; I cannot rest until Arnold is over that conniving little—"

"Excuse me, Ms. Pataki?" Principal Wartz stood at the other end of the hall. "What are you doing? You know these halls are off-limits until the lunch period ends."

She held her hand up in his direction. "I was going to the nurse's office. And if the halls are off-limits, what are _you _doing here?"

"Me? I was just on my way to the nurse's office myself. Got a nasty paper cut, thought I better get it checked."

"I see." Helga stared blankly at the middle-aged, balding man in charge of the school, caring less about why he was roaming the hall at that particular moment.

"As much as I'd like to stand here and chat, Ms. Pataki, the halls remain off-limits, so come along."

Helga followed along behind Wartz, finalizing her thoughts as she went. _I don't know how I'll do it yet, but by the time I get through with those two, Lila won't be able to stand Arnold's presence, and Arnold will finally give up and start searching for someone else to shine his love beacon on!_

She enjoyed a maniacal laugh in her head, with some of it escaping out through her mouth as mild chuckling. Wartz glanced over his shoulder at the apparent psychotic and decided not to inquire.

"All right, class! I hope you all enjoyed your lunch, because you're going to need all that energy for what I've got planned next!"

The collective groan arose on cue. Harold was particularly vocal, "Mr. Simmons, can we please just have free time until the bell rings?"

"But Harold, I had something special planned."

"I don't care! You've been trying to cram two days' worth of stuff into our brains to make up for the day off yesterday. We can only take so much!"

Mr. Simmons produced a hat from a cabinet in the back of the classroom as Harold lamented the day's lesson plan. "I know I've pushed you guys a bit today, but I promise this isn't going to be something you'll hate," he said as he brought the hat up to his desk and pulled out a bag filled with small pieces of paper.

The classroom then went silent as the door to the room flew open and Helga entered, her hand wrapped in fresh bandages. Even though Old Betsy was now on the injured list, the Five Avengers would have no problem taking its place if necessary. She stomped to her desk in normal fashion. Meanwhile, with Simmons busy setting up the big surprise at his desk, Arnold took the opportunity to spin around and inquire, "How's your hand, Helga?"

"It's upside your temple if you don't turn back around."

"I'm sorry I asked," he muttered as he complied. He turned and faced Gerald instead. "What do you think he's got planned?"

"I think I know, but I'm afraid to say; I might jinx it."

Others around the room, knowing Mr. Simmons as well as they did, began piecing the puzzle together, uttering their thoughts in a collective effort.

"Tall hat with wide brim large enough to fit one's hand through…"

"Several small pieces of paper with names written on each…"

"Oh no, it's—"

"A group project!" Simmons declared.

The room filled with more grouses of protest. The sound quickly approached and surpassed even Mr. Simmons's lax level of tolerance, prompting him to grab a meter stick and slam it down on his desk in a schoolmaster-like fashion. The class fell silent immediately.

"Am I doing something wrong here? What is it about a group project that everyone finds so objectionable?"

"They're boring!"

"And lame!"

"And we never get to pick our own partners!"

Mr. Simmons leaned up against the chalkboard, apparently taking the gripes seriously. "Is that all?"

The classroom went quiet again, with everyone looking around in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the teacher.

"Okay, then to answer your complaints: I disagree, I'm sorry if they are, and maybe next time. Now, who wants to be first?" The increase in perkiness wasn't enough to get even the most enthusiastic of his students involved. "All right, then. We'll start over here at Park and work around the room."

As Mr. Simmons went down the first row having the kids draw names from the hat and recording partners, one person on the other side of the room was actually anticipating the project with great interest. "Another project! And if fate continues to smile down on me as it has over the last year, I will once again be paired up with my beloved! I can't explain it, but it seems we're destined to work together by the looks of the hot streak I've been on getting the two of us hooked up for these things, as it should be!"

"Let me just record that…got it. Okay, now we're going to Arnold."

Helga's breathing went shallow as Mr. Simmons made his stop at the desk in front of her. _I have to make sure I catch the look on his face when he pulls my name out!_ She crept up closer behind him, being sure to get a whiff of his hair while the opportunity was present.

Arnold reached into the hat and felt around. By his count, there were only four slips left. He pulled one out after finally settling on it and glanced down.

Helga leaned back in her chair without even looking to see her name. "Yeah, well, that's how it goes sometimes Football Head; you win some, you lose some!"

Mr. Simmons checked the piece of paper and wrote the pairing down. He then confirmed it, "Okay, so Arnold is working with Lila, then."

Helga fell out of her seat. _"What?"_ It was unfathomable! Only once before had he been placed with Lila, while Helga had a near-perfect record getting paired up with him!

Mr. Simmons stepped over to her cautiously. "Helga, is something wrong?"

She realized that her exclamation might be construed as disappointment in not getting paired with the boy she claimed to hate. "No, I'm fine! Just slipped out of my chair!"

"I understand. Well, if I take Arnold and Lila's names out of the hat, that only leaves us with two."

Helga quickly scanned the room. She now regretted not paying attention to the pairings as they were being made. _Who's left? It's bad enough I'm not working with Arnold; who could it be?_

Mr. Simmons took the names out one at a time in an effort to build the suspense. "Let's see…Helga…you will be paired with…"

Her eyes came across one person in particular, and she got a feeling that was the one. _Please don't tell me it's—_

"Gerald! Helga and Gerald, you'll be the last team." Mr. Simmons rushed back to the front of the room, anxious to get the teams started on their work. "Now, everyone listen up and let me explain what you will be doing in these groups! These are your pairings for the annual science fair! Each team will—"

"Put a sock in it, Simmons! We know how the deal goes!"

"Oh, well in that case…" His shoulders sank as he went and quietly sat down to observe.

Arnold got up to go and join Lila. As he passed Helga, he commented, "You know the teachers have feelings, too."

She avoided eye contact as he went by, scoffing at his words. After he was gone, she pulled out a notebook and went back to work on a poem she'd recently started about him.

"Ahem?" Gerald had changed seats and was now sitting in Arnold's seat, facing Helga.

"Hey! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"What are you doing there?"

"None of your beeswax, Tall Hair Boy!"

"Is it something for our project?"

"No!"

Gerald appeared to literally get blown back by Helga's words. "All right, now look. Whether either of us likes it or not, we're stuck together. My suggestion to you then would be to cool out and try to get along, okay?"

"Whatever floats your boat." She shut her notebook and tapped a finger on the desk. "So what do you want to do this thing on?"

"Wow, Lila, I think we've really got something going here."

"I think so, too. It's just oh so easy to come up with ideas for studying the laws of nature when you live out in the country."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Arnold gazed into Lila's eyes as the bell rang. The stampede rushed out the door, leaving Arnold and Lila alone in the back of the room. The door opened back up momentarily, as Mr. Simmons returned to lock up. He caught sight of the stowaways and almost jumped.

"Oh! I thought everyone had already left."

"We're just about through here. I'll be ever so sure to lock the door on our way out, if that works for you."

"Okay, but don't be too long. You aren't supposed to be in here without supervision."

"We'll be quick. See you tomorrow, Mr. Simmons." With the teacher out the door, Lila turned back to Arnold, whose eyes were still locked on her. "I'm sorry, but I think we should lay down a ground rule, Arnold."

"What is it?" He was completely zoned out.

"It just seems like you're still trying to get me to like you like you, and I don't want things to get weird while we're working on this."

He snapped out of his trance. "Um, okay, Lila. I'll try my best."

"Great! Would you care to walk me home?"

He stumbled a step as they made their way out the door. _That's strange, she just told me she didn't want things to get weird, and now she asks me to walk her home. So what, am I just going to say no?_

"Arnold, did you hear my question?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I did. I was just thinking."

They stopped near the main doors to the school. Lila gave him an inviting look and spoke in her playful schoolgirl tone, "Come on, Arnold, please?"

He took a couple steps back from her. _It's not getting weird, it's already there; I'm going to nix it._ "I'd like to, but I…" _need an excuse!_ His eyes searched the vicinity for something and came across a flyer on the bulletin board behind Lila.

"You were—"

"I was going to check out the new mentoring program that starts today over at the YMAA, and I'd be going out of my way to your house."

Lila gave him a suspicious smirk. Arnold smiled nervously, _Please, just buy it!_

"Okay, Arnold. I won't make you walk all the way to my house if it's that much of a problem. I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

He sighed in relief in the back of his mind as she left. "Yeah, see you later." After Lila was out the door, he stepped over to the board and took another look at the flyer, reading some of the selling points, "Are you confused about your life? Do you have problems and don't know who to turn to for answers? Or are you just looking for something to do after school?" He glanced down at the rest, which listed the details and the location.

It suddenly struck him that it might be worth it to go there anyway. _Maybe I can talk to someone that knows what's going on with this Lila business, and who won't start lecturing me about proper, raspberry-free diet. Ah, what the heck?_ He pulled off one of the tabs at the bottom of the flyer and headed out the door.

Upon the click of the door returning to its frame, a locker next to the bulletin board burst open. The occupant climbed out of her hiding place, surveyed the board and found the subject of the recent conversation. "Mentoring, eh? Maybe he's closer to giving up on her than I thought…or he could just be going there to get tips! Either way, I need to get over there and make sure the latter doesn't happen!"

Helga reached up and took one of the tabs Arnold had grabbed prior. As she did so, a familiar sound approached. As strong as her sense of hearing was, it wasn't possible to place the location of the noise. _No need to find it, I'll let it come to me. It's only a matter of time._ She stood facing the board, pretending to still be reading. The raspy sound grew louder, and eventually she could even feel it. As refreshing as it felt to have a breeze wafting across the back of her neck during the warm afternoon, it was time to bring in the pinch hitter.

The Five Avengers greeted Brainy with a loud smack, leaving him crumpled up in the middle of the hall as Helga walked to the door. As she stepped out, she turned and smiled at him. Even though it had been a particularly callous one, Brainy returned a smile of his own after the door closed.


	12. Ezekiel

Author's notes: The reviews just keep on coming! Thanks to everyone. The group of regulars seems to be firmly established, but I still appreciate the others who jump in along the way!

Once again, my writing grew at a rapid rate and forced me to make two chapters out of what I originally planned on being one. But this should turn out to be a good thing if the "Beaned" saga was any indication. There is something that makes this chapter completely different from the last eleven: new characters! Well, one of them is, at least. I'll explain what I mean in the footnotes. A quick note for Jae: I _dare_ you to call this chapter "predictable!" (J/K, but do give me an opinion)

Disclaimer: Despite my desire for it to be true, I do not own _Hey Arnold!_

The large, beige building looked completely lifeless from the outside. Arnold stood near the front door of the YMAA, ready for the proverbial tumbleweed to blow by any minute. _I'm not so sure about this now. I'd like it better if some other kids were here so I don't get singled out._ He peered in through the glass doors. A few kids appeared to be playing basketball on one side of the main gym. On the other side, which was closer to his vantage point, he saw a table with a sign on the front. The print on the sign was too small to read, but he figured it was for the mentoring program. Regardless of what it was for, there was no one at the table, neither kids nor mentors.

After loitering outside the building for a couple more minutes, he was about to take a pass and go home when he heard a familiar voice echoing down the street, "Outta my way, Geek Bait! I've got important business to attend to!"

Arnold didn't even bother to look for the daily terror of his young existence. He almost knocked a door off its hinge as he flew into the gym, praying that Helga hadn't seen him. _She must have gone by my house and noticed I wasn't there. Couldn't she just go home and leave me alone for once?_ Arnold cautiously crept back towards the door, peering out onto the street.

_No! Did she see me?_ He stood frozen, spotting Helga standing at a corner. Staying perfectly still to avoid drawing her attention, Arnold watched as she looked about, hands on her hips, with a frustrated frown on her face. It was clear she was looking for someone. Her eyes then unexpectedly locked on his. _Please, no! But can she really see me? I mean, the doors are really reflective from the outside. Maybe she just happens to be looking over here?_

After staring at him for what felt like an eternity to Arnold, Helga turned in a huff and marched away, disappearing around the corner. Every muscle in Arnold's body relaxed in relief as he leaned back into the wall and sighed.

"Hey, Arnie!" A loud voice from the other side of the gym returned Arnold's body to its previously tense condition. Jack Wittenberg had spotted him. Arnold reluctantly dragged himself across the court.

"Hey, Coach."

"Save the small talk, Arnie. Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, I guess."

"That's great!" The coach turned and called to the younger kids horsing around, "All right, everyone gather around! I've brought in a master free throw shooter to show you guys how it's done! This is Arnold, he played on my fourth grade team last year."

Arnold stood amidst the ooh's and aah's being poured at his feet, showing little interest in giving a demonstration. He rolled his eyes as Wittenberg gave him a ball and led him over to the free throw line. "Coach, I really didn't come to play basketball, I was hoping to—"

"I know, I know! Look, all I want is you to show them that granny shot of yours that goes in every time."

"Hold on, who says it's a granny shot? I designed the shot myself; it's the most efficient and consistent way I know to make the basket."

"You're right, it is efficient and everything, but it's still a granny shot whether you like it or not."

"Look, Coach—"

"Arnold, please, just shut up and make the shot."

Arnold lackadaisically tossed the ball towards the rim. It perfectly swished through the net as Arnold turned to walk away.

"Wow! Can you do that again?"

"Yeah, that was great!"

Wittenberg observed the enthusiasm coming from his team and grabbed Arnold by the sweater as he tried to sneak away. "Where are you going? They want to see you do it again!"

"Coach, I already told you, I didn't come here to shoot hoops, and besides that, isn't basketball season like, two months away?"

"Hey, Tish already started coaching her girls' team last week! I've got to keep up with her if I want to produce a more winning team! But if you're not here to play basketball, what _did_ you come for?"

"I thought I came for the mentoring program, but I guess the mentors never bothered to show up."

"Mentoring program? I didn't hear about any—wait a minute! Yeah, I remember now! I'm supposed to call the guy out here when the first kid shows up."

"Well, actually, I was thinking I'd actually better be getting home and—"

"Nonsense! I know the guy, he doesn't mind at all! Hey, Robert!"

A voice replied from a room down a hall from the basketball court, "Yeah, Jack?"

"I've got your first kid out here!"

If Arnold wasn't ready to run out of the gym initially, he was ready to go on an all-out sprint when "Robert" emerged onto the gym floor. "Arnold? I don't believe it! I was starting to think Principle Wartz was right about you kids not caring about the mentoring program!"

Arnold began to feel nauseous. "Uh, Mr. Simmons, I really didn't expect…"

Simmons read the look on Arnold's face. "Oh, I'm sorry! You've got the wrong idea! I'm not one of the mentors; I'm the program coordinator."

"Really? Well, that's a relief—no, wait, that's not what I meant! I mean—"

Simmons came over and escorted Arnold over to the bleachers by the wall. "That's all right. I know it'd probably be a little uncomfortable to have your teacher as your friend."

"My 'friend?'"

"Well, that's what your mentor is supposed to be, among other things."

Despite the fact that Mr. Simmons wasn't going to be his actual mentor, the whole situation still felt extremely awkward. Arnold took a seat on the bleachers and watched the kids on Wittenberg's team try to imitate Arnold's free throw shot, but with little luck. Arnold noticed that Coach Wittenberg was actually being supportive of the players, and shouting words of encouragement every time they made a shot. _Looks like I finally got through to him. And to think, it took synchronized swimming for it to sink in to his skull completely._ Wittenberg gave Arnold a grateful smile every time another kid got the shot down.

Satisfied with his latest favor, Arnold cautiously directed his gaze back to Mr. Simmons, who was standing off to the side of the gym, talking on a cell phone. It looked like as good a time as any to make his escape. To his recollection, there was a back door at the end of the hall of offices that Simmons had first emerged from. As casually as he could, Arnold shuffled off towards his exit.

"Arnold! Do you need something?"

_Darn it!_ "No, I was just…pacing around."

"I see. I just called today's mentor. He said his last class ran a little long, but he's on his way right now."

"Oh…that's good."

"Arnold, is something bothering you?"

"Well…it's just…" _I hope he buys this,_ "I would have preferred if I wasn't the only one here. I kind of feel singled out."

"I think I know what you mean. But you never know, someone else might show up."

Arnold gave Mr. Simmons a questioning glare in regard to his seemingly paper-thin compassion.

"Yo, Simmons!" As if to answer Arnold's prayers, another kid came walking in through the glass door entrance.

While Arnold breathed another well-deserved sigh of relief, Mr. Simmons walked over and met the new boy. "Hi, are you here for the mentoring program?"

"Good guess, Simmons. Name's Zeke, nice to see you again."

"Again? I'm sorry, I don't remember the first time we met."

"Well, technically we've never actually 'met.' I go to P.S. 119. A few of my friends were in your third grade class a couple years ago before you transferred over to 118."

"Uh-huh. You do look vaguely familiar. Maybe if you took off those sunglasses I'd be able to tell?"

Zeke grabbed his glasses and put a hand up to Simmons. "Sorry, no can do. The glasses _never_ come off."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it, then. Why don't you have a seat with the boy sitting over there? The mentor should be here any minute."

"Sounds good."

Zeke strutted across the gym in an obvious attempt to look cool. The kid was a sight to behold as Arnold watched him approach. At first sight, attention was drawn to Zeke's head, which sported a large, afro-like frock of brown hair with blonde highlights. Complementing the outrageous hair was a pair of orange sunglasses housed in a dark pewter frame. Moving past the head, Zeke was dressed in a long-sleeved blue t-shirt with red characters emblazoned across the chest. Arnold couldn't read them or even tell what language it was, although it was definitely East Asian. Completing the look was a pair of light brown corduroy pants and a pair of relatively plain-looking sneakers.

The new kid took a seat and extended his hand, "Hi, I'm Zeke."

"Nice to meet you, I'm—ow!" Arnold pulled back his crippled hand. "You've got some grip there!"

"Thanks. Your name's Arnold, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I've heard about you."

"Really? From whom?"

"Gerald Johansson, of course."

"How do _you_ know Gerald?"

"He comes by P.S. 119 every once in a while and tells us his famous urban tales. He used you once, actually."

"Let me guess, 'the kid with a football for a head?'"

"Guess you've probably heard that one. But now that I've met you, I can really see the resemblance."

"Sure." Arnold frowned and looked to get off the subject of his head shape. He glanced at Zeke and noticed something odd about Zeke's left arm. "Is that a cast you've got on there or something?"

"What, this?" Zeke brought his arm up pulled back the sleeve. "Yeah, I got that about a week ago. Broke my arm trying to grind down the handrails on the front steps of my school."

"You skateboard?"

"Yeah. At least, I try to."

The two of them chuckled at that remark. Arnold continued, "Those bandages wrapped around your hand remind me of a friend of mine."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah. She cut her hand open on a soda bottle today. How or why she did it, I'll never understand."

"Wait, you said 'she;' are you referring to Helga Pataki?"

"Yeah, do you know her, too?"

"Well, not personally. Gerald used her in his tales once, described her as the most terrifying girl walking the planet."

"That's _one_ accurate description. But how did you know about her hand?"

"I ran into her on my way over here. I bump into her as she's walking by me and before I know it, she grabs me by the collar, practically lifts me off the ground, and yells something about how she'll put her good hand down my throat if I don't watch where I'm going."

"You're lucky; she let you off pretty easy compared to the stuff she puts me through every day. Sometimes I wish that girl would just move away or something and leave me alone."

"Well, you know, she didn't seem all that mean about it when she yelled at me. It was more like she was feeling insecure and just didn't want anyone running into her."

"Yeah, Helga's always been that way. I just can't figure out what it is that makes her want to do that stuff all the time. I know she's not really like that."

Although Arnold couldn't read Zeke's eyes for a clear picture, Arnold could tell Zeke was confused by his last remark. Zeke's mouth lips were off to one side, and his forehead was furrowed up, revealing what Arnold could now clearly tell was a unibrow. _Man, how many people in this town have one of those? It's like there's a tweezer shortage._

"I'm sorry, Zeke. I don't want to bore you with a bunch of details regarding Helga."

"It's okay, I don't mind hearing about her. I mean, that's what we're here for, isn't it, to talk about stuff?"

"I guess."

"Speaking of that, where's the mentor guy at, anyway?"

"I don't know, but to tell you the truth, I've got a bad feeling about meeting this so-called 'mentor.'"

"Why's that?"

"Well, Mr. Simmons told me he was on his way over from his 'last class.'"

"Aw, no way! You mean we gotta put up with a teacher for our mentor?"

"I'm afraid so."

Zeke glanced around for Mr. Simmons and couldn't spot him. He then turned to Arnold, "What do you say we make a break for the door?"

"I tried that once already. Simmons seems to always be watching whether we know it or not."

"Who cares what Simmons thinks? Come on, Arnold. Let's get out of here."

His conscience now agreeing with Zeke, not caring what Mr. Simmons would think of them bailing, Arnold followed along. The two of them got near the main entrance. Arnold was ready to hear Mr. Simmons, Coach Wittenberg, or just about anyone on the planet catch them and call them back, but he heard nothing.

They were about to reach the door when another person walked in and stopped them on their way out. "Hey, guys. Could you tell me where the mentoring program's meeting at?"

Zeke pointed the new arrival over to the bleachers where he and Arnold were just sitting. "Go sit over there and look for the skinny bald guy in the green sweater."

Arnold looked at the shirt the new guy was wearing, which read "HCC."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Simmons, right?"

"Right. He's probably lurking down one of those hallways; you can't miss him."

"All right, thanks a lot."

"No problem. Okay, Arnold, let's get going."

Arnold finally realized what the letters meant. "Hold on a second. Do you go to Hillwood City College?"

"Yeah. Any reason you wanted to know?"

"Not really. It just seems a little strange, someone your age coming in here for mentoring."

"Hey, I admit I'm a bit young to be doing this sort of thing, but—"

"Too young?" Zeke decided to interrupt after initially not showing much interest in the young man. "I would've said you were too old to be coming in here. What are you, like, 19?"

"Good guess."

Zeke and Arnold glanced at each other. Arnold spoke for them both, "I think we're a bit confused."

"Will! There you are!" Mr. Simmons called from the other side of the gym.

"Hey, Mr. Simmons!"

Simmons jogged over to the three of them. "Boys, this is Will, your mentor!"

The two ten-year-olds' jaws dropped. "This guy is the mentor?"

"He sure is, Zeke! Will, these are the two boys who showed up, Zeke and Arnold."

"Nice to meet you two—ow! Zeke, you've got some squeeze there!"

Zeke smiled smugly at the compliment as Will and Arnold shook hands.

Mr. Simmons put his hands together. "Fantastic! Okay, folks, I've got a meeting room set up for you guys in the back. But first, Will, could I talk to you for a minute in private? Boys, just go down the hall; it's the first door on the left."

Arnold and Zeke obediently walked back across the gym, looking back at the mentor with looks of surprise on their faces. "I guess you misunderstood Simmons when he said the mentor had a 'class.'"

"I guess I did."

"Did you get a load of him squealing when I shook his hand? Pretty sweet, being able to put the hurtin' on someone nine years older than me!"

"Zeke, I think he was messing with you. I mean, he sounded a little sarcastic when he gave you the complement."

"Arnold, please, let me enjoy it while it lasts."

Arnold rolled his eyes, but at the same time couldn't help but smile. Zeke reminded him a lot of the gang, each of them a touch eccentric in their own way.

The two of them reached the first door on the left and found the meeting room. Arnold walked in first and surveyed the setup. "Hey, this isn't so bad."

Zeke had other feelings. "'Not so bad?' This is awesome! Full-size leather sofa, chips, candy—ooh, gummy worms—and a chest full of Yahoo!" He immediately started raiding the freebies set before him.

Arnold took a seat on the sofa and sank into the cushions, sighing loudly. "Okay, I'll admit it, this is pretty good. Actually, it's almost _too_ good."

"Arold, cam I het you amyding?" Zeke asked with a mouth full of gummy worms.

"Just a Yahoo, thanks."

Zeke brought over a plate full of potato chips, gummy worms and Tootsie Rolls and set them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He handed Arnold one of the Yahoos he had under his arm and took a seat himself. "If we had a TV in here, we'd be all set."

"A TV? Now _that_ would be too much."

As Zeke laughed at Arnold's remark, Arnold took notice of Zeke's apparent lack of any physical build or tone. For a kid strong enough to supposedly squeeze harder than an adult male, he actually appeared rather scrawny. But Arnold had met a few guys on Ernie's demolition team, emaciated in appearance, who could lift a hundred pounds with little if any effort, so he knew not to take appearance too heavily into account.

"So, Arnold, I'm just curious, can you tell me more about this terror of the schoolyard?"

"Actually, to be honest, Helga's not my favorite topic of discussion."

"Aw, come on. As much as you seem to hate her, she actually sounds kind of interesting."

Some Yahoo found its way down Arnold's windpipe after that statement. He spoke between coughs, "Are you… kidding me? You're… telling me… Helga's… interesting?"

"Whoa, hang on a second! I didn't mean it like that! I meant I find the bully persona very intriguing, like an accident on the side of the road or something."

Arnold spit up the last bit of soda in a fit of laughter. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I've got a few things to say!"

"All right! Let's hear it!"

"Okay, here's something that happens to me almost everyday. I'll be going along, walking down the street or down the school hallway. I come to a corner, and out of nowhere, I smack right into Helga. Neither of us is ever expecting this, despite the fact that it's happened so many times. Anyway, we both fall down, and every time, without fail, she's got this look of total shock on her face that's just priceless!"

"Oh, yeah? How do you mean?"

"Well, she just kind of turns pale and gets these really big eyes, like this." Arnold replicated the familiar look of bewilderment.

Zeke started holding his sides, laughing until he was short of breath.

Arnold continued, starting to find the story rather amusing himself. "I think her problem is that the fall completely throws her off her game. She knows it, and she knows I know it, too. So she stands up real quick, and yells at me, 'Why don't you watch where you're going, Football Head? Sheesh!'"

"'Football Head?' Is that what she calls you?"

"Yeah, it's her favorite name she's got for me, one of like, a zillion others."

Zeke stuck his fingers under his sunglasses and appeared to be wiping tears from his eyes. "That's rich. So what, does she like you or something? Because you know that's what it sounds like, to me at least."

"You're not the first one to give me that theory. My grandpa likes to tease me about it all the time."

"I'd probably be teasing you, too! Sounds like you've got a live one, my friend."

"Yeah, I guess. Just wish I could figure out what to do about her. But that's why we're here, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is. Speaking of that, where the heck is that mentor? The food and everything is great, but I need something to engage me!"

Zeke's words were answered as the door opened and Will made his entrance. Arnold and Zeke returned to their prior silence. Will grabbed a folding chair from the corner of the room and set it down across from the boys. He then grabbed a Yahoo, opened it and sat down. After taking a long sip, he set it down and looked up at the boys. "Okay, gentlemen. What do you say we get started?"

Character notes: Zeke is partly based on one of the characters from the snowboarding game, SSX Tricky. I think his name was Eddie, but I'm only about 40% sure. I used him mainly for the hairstyle, and then I changed things up from there.

Yes, I have committed the always-controversial act of self-insertion! I actually had this planned since I first came up with the main plot, so don't think that this was a last-minute decision! And it's not me in any exact sense; think of it more as a character loosely based off of myself who just happens to have the same name.

That's all for now, I'll pick up right where I left off next time. Thank you for reading!


	13. Mentor, Advisor, Mole

Disclaimer: I don't own _Hey Arnold!_

Silence fell over the meeting room. The three occupants glanced around, waiting for someone to break it.

Actually, it would be more correctly called near-silence, as there was still noise, but simply a lack of vocal activity. Zeke, determined to avoid the role of speaker, munched loudly on his potato chips. Exploiting the reflective, mirror-like finish on his flame-colored lenses, he pretended to be staring at a wall, when in fact he was eyeing Arnold and Will, waiting impatiently for the conversation to start.

In the same fashion, but with a different motive, the mentor sat waiting, ears primed for the first words out of either boy's mouth. This particular technique demanded that the mentored start the discussion so that the session didn't feel "controlled." Will, of course, knew that the longer the wait, the harder it would be for either boy to speak up. Thus, he tried to hurry the process along with a few tactics.

Arnold was undergoing an internal struggle as he sat idle. Despite his unusually high level of confidence and optimism for his age, anxiety was making a guest appearance in his subconscious. Part of him, possibly most of him, still felt uncomfortable talking about girls and other problems he expected to be addressed. The rest of his will power fought back, urging him to drop the barrier he was imposing on himself.

Two noises consecutively broke the seemingly impenetrable speech bank. The first was a devised ploy by Will, designed to provoke Zeke into snapping, "I'm sorry, but is there a reason that you're doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"You know, the slurping."

"Oh, you mean this?" Will continued to sip his Yahoo in the loud manner Zeke was describing.

Zeke chuckled, "Okay, I see what you're trying to pull here. You think that by doing something annoying you're going to get one of us to start talking. Is that it?"

"Did you not just talk?"

"Huh? Hey, I thought you were supposed to be a mentor, not a shrink!"

"Ha! You have to pay me before you can call me a shrink, Zeke. But I am using a technique I picked up from a friend of mine, a real psychologist. I like to call it 'observational icebreaking.'"

"Well, I like to call it 'annoying.'"

"Okay, then. And I suppose you were eating those chips with your mouth open out of courtesy for Arnold and me."

Zeke and Will smiled back and forth with somewhat arrogant looks on their faces. Arnold rolled his eyes, preparing for the one-upmanship battle that was about to take place.

"So who taught you this fantastic conversation-starter?"

"I doubt you'll know who it is, but it was Dr. Bliss."

This comment triggered a loud hiccup out of Zeke.

"Are you okay there, Zeke?"

"Oh, yeah, fine. I was just drinking the soda a little fast. But Dr. Bliss, you said? She's pretty cool."

"You know Dr. Bliss?"

"Oh…well, not _personally._ She stops by 119 every few weeks to meet with a few of the kids there."

"I see. So you go to P.S. 119, then. Arnold, where do you go to school?"

Arnold sat for a moment before it finally registered that he was being called on to speak. "Oh, P.S. 118."

"118, that's good. I was hoping to get kids from different schools."

Neither boy responded after this, bringing the conversation back to a standstill. Will allowed this, wanting only to facilitate and not lead at the moment. Arnold, growing fed up with the amount of time being wasted, went to speak but was cut off.

Zeke reached for his pocket, retrieving the source of the loud, melodic beeping that filled the room. Glancing at the device, he got up to leave. "Sorry, guys, personal call."

The door opened and closed. With the occupancy down to two, Arnold and Will looked at each other, each in an attempt to figure the other out.

"Arnold, I'm not 100% sure, but I'm guessing you're here because you've got a problem."

"Well, kind of…but doesn't everyone who comes in here have problems?"

"Most everyone does, but I didn't say 'problems,' Arnold. I said you have a 'problem,' as in one, singular."

"What do you mean?"

"You appear to be a kid who's really got it together, a straight arrow, so to speak."

"You can tell that just by looking at me?"

"Partly. You're dressed pretty conservatively for a ten-year-old, with the plaid shirt and plain-colored sweater and jeans."

Arnold glanced down at his permanent choice of apparel. "Hey, I'll admit I dress different from the rest of my classmates, but how does that tell you that I've 'got it together?'"

"Just a hunch. But tell me; am I right? You're here because you've encountered a new problem that you're not as used to dealing with."

After a brief pause and sigh, "Yeah, that's right. But how did you know?"

"Arnold, understand something here. Whatever this problem is that you're having, you're not the only one going through it. Any problem you encounter has been faced and conquered by millions of people before you."

"Yeah, I'm sure a million other Arnolds are out there having as much trouble as me trying to get a million other Lilas."

"Excuse me?"

Arnold realized he'd spoken that comment a bit too loudly. "Hold on, I didn't mean to imply anything there."

"It's about a girl! Ha, I should have known!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, nothing."

"No, I saw where you were going with that. Was it the clothes that gave that one away, or was it another 'hunch' of yours?"

Will chuckled a bit, "No, it's just that you're only the umpteenth boy I've talked to your age having these girl problems."

Arnold slouched in his seat, annoyed by Will making light of the situation. "Thanks, I feel a _lot_ better now that you think my problems are _so_ funny."

"Arnold, come on! The first thing I do with all my kids is put their problems in perspective. Making fun of it is one way to make it seem like it's not that big of a deal."

"So what you do is make me feel like my life's a joke; is that it?"

This drew loud laughter out of Will.

Arnold patience was beginning to wear. "I don't see what's so funny about this! I thought you were supposed to help me out!"

The laughing abruptly ceased. "Arnold, you missed the point."

"What point?"

"The point I just made. Tell me what it was when it comes to you."

"But I—"

The door flying open upon Zeke's return interrupted Arnold. "Sorry about that. It was my mom."

"I know what _that's_ like."

Zeke gave Will a confused look. "What do you know? I bet they didn't even have cell phones when you were our age!"

"Actually, _they_ did have cell phones, and by _they,_ I mean adults. We kids didn't need cell phones way back in the 90's."

"Yeah, sure. What if you left your homework at home? How would you get a hold of your parents to get them to bring it for you?"

"Well, if you happened to have some change on you and your timing was good enough to remember the missing assignment while you were near a pay phone, then you were saved. But that never happened. If you left something at home, you had to think up a damn good excuse for it or take the zero. And it was really embarrassing back then, because the majority of the class actually did the homework and you got singled out."

Zeke waited patiently. After what he judged to be a long enough pause, "I see. You're saying we've got it easy?"

"That's one way of putting it."

Arnold piped up, "Oh, come on! First you laugh and make a joke out of my problems, and then you tell us we've got it easy?"

Will stood up and waved them both down. "Okay, guys, just cool it for a second and let me try to explain. All I'm doing is putting everything in perspective for you. I know it drives your age group nuts when you're told that your problems are insignificant. To you, of course these problems seem like a big deal. They consume your whole world, your whole existence. But outside of your own world, they mean absolutely nothing!"

Arnold interrupted, "I get all that! But why are you telling us all of this? I don't see how demeaning us is helping the issue."

"Whoa, hold on a second! Let's get one thing straight right now: I am _not_ demeaning you guys. We're talking about your problems, not yourselves individually."

Arnold folded his arms and gave Will the half-lidded look. Zeke leaned forward and locked Will in the sight of his glossy glasses. They were now both in their most receptive positions. Will seemed to recognize this as he sat down and made his point.

"Gentlemen, my point is this: by realizing your problems are insignificant, you reduce the burden that they present to your lives. By seeing them as something pointless or as a joke, it becomes easier to face them and overcome them."

Zeke slowly reclined back, mouth open as he processed this new proverb.

Arnold also contemplated the words just spoken by Will, and suddenly perked up. "Hey, I get it now! You were laughing at my problems because they were a joke! A joke's something you laugh at!"

"I was afraid you weren't going to get it! Good job, Arnold! Zeke, is there anything you want to add to this?"

Zeke turned and looked at the two of them, jaw still hanging down to his chest. After Arnold and Will started to get worried looks on their faces, Zeke snapped out of his trance. "Oh! Uh, no, I thought you summed it up pretty well."

"Okay, then. Well, guys, it looks like our time's up for today."

Arnold looked at Will in amazement. "Already? But we've only been here for like, ten minutes!"

"I'm sorry, Arnold. I appreciate the sudden enthusiasm and everything, but we're only booked for this room until 4:30 today."

"Aw, come on! You were running late; you've got to make that time up!"

"Trust me, we'll more than make up for it next time. Thursday we've got the room for as long as you like."

"I guess we can wait…but why do we have to leave right now? Who's using the room right now?"

The door flew open in response. An older man came into the room carrying a folding table followed by a few other guys. "All right, kiddies! It's 4:30, time to clear out for our poker tournament!"

"Oskar? You're the reason we have to clear out of here?"

"Oh, hello, Arnold! Sorry, but those are the breaks!" He punctuated the vacation with his nervous chuckling as Arnold, Zeke and Will filed out of the room, passing about a dozen middle-aged guys who promptly began to fill the meeting place with cigar smoke in spite of the no smoking signs present on the walls. As the door closed behind the three, Oskar could be heard calling out, "Hey, who started in on our snacks?"

"Either of you need a ride home?"

"No thanks, I take the bus."

"Fair enough. What about you, Arnold?"

"That's okay, Will. Maybe some other time."

"All right, then. See you guys on Thursday."

As Will's car pulled away from the front of the YMAA, the bus pulled in right behind him. Zeke turned to Arnold as it stopped, "That's convenient. You going on this one?"

"Sure am." The two of them boarded and took a seat towards the back. Arnold glanced around, trying to locate one of his classmates, but couldn't find anyone. He turned back to Zeke. "So, what'd you think of our mentor?"

"Eh, he's okay. I guess he made a good point with his 'no big deal' speech."

"Yeah. I suppose it makes sense to belittle your problems, but when I think about it some more, isn't that a lot like denial?"

"It does sound like that, but I don't think he intended to—" The loud beeping noise again made an interruption. "Sorry, Arnold. Do you mind if I take this one?"

Arnold shrugged his shoulders in acceptance.

Zeke answered the phone, "Hello?…Oh, uh…Hi, Mom…I'm on my way home right now…Nope, no problems with the mentor…Yeah, yeah, I'll tell you all about it. Listen, Mom, I'm with a friend right now, can I let you go?…Would you stop worrying about that?…I'm taking care of it, okay?…Right…Bye." Zeke put the phone back in his pocket and turned back to Arnold. "Sorry, she can be a real pain sometimes."

"Don't worry about it. But, Zeke, don't mind my asking about it, but is that cell phone from Big Bob's Beepers?"

Zeke seemed to be having trouble answering the question. "Big Bob? What about Big Bob?"

"I was just wondering because a friend of mine has a phone just like that one."

"Yeah? Well, now that you mention it, I think my parents probably got it there."

Arnold noticed Zeke seemed a bit unnerved by his last question. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm doing just fine!"

This wasn't going to pass. "All right, Zeke, I know you're lying to me."

"Lying? What gave you that idea?"

"Just tell me why you got upset when I brought up Big Bob."

Zeke froze. "Arnold, I…I don't know what you're talking about."

Arnold contemplated his course of action for a moment. "Look, Zeke, you're not going to get anything past me. So why don't you just end the discussion right now?"

After another brief pause of his own, Zeke threw his arms up in frustration, "Fine! Here's the deal: Big Bob and my dad are really close friends, and thus, I'm a bit more acquainted with Helga than I let on earlier."

Arnold was perplexed. "Why were you so worried about me figuring that out?"

"I don't know, okay? I just get a little bent out of shape when I hear Big Bob's name. The guy's not a pleasant houseguest when he stops by on occasion."

"I will give you that much, but I still don't get why it's a big deal."

"It just is. Can you leave it alone now?

"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. Well, this is my stop. I guess I'll see you in a couple days, Zeke."

"Right. See you around, Arnold."

As Arnold departed the bus, Zeke watched in great anticipation. When the doors shut and the bus began moving again, Zeke leaned back and breathed a loud sigh of relief. A couple passengers nearby took note of this especially loud display of liberation, to which Zeke snapped, _"What?"_

"A mentor? What the heck do you need a mentor for?"

"I don't know, Grandpa. I guess I was just looking for a second opinion on the whole girl issue."

"Oh, I get it. You think the old man doesn't know what he's talking about?"

"That's not it, it's just…I feel like I need to talk to someone my age, someone who's had these troubles a little more…recently."

"Aw, Arnold, you don't need to sugarcoat it. This sort of thing is confusing at any age. You can talk to just about anyone about it. All I'm going to say is don't expect any miracles."

"Good job, Gramps! You destroyed the poor kid's confidence faster than I knocked down that old office building over on 56th!"

"Yeah? Well, what would you tell him, Potts? Sometimes the truth hurts and you just gotta let 'em know it right up front!"

"Baloney! Arnold, you can't tell me that you're actually having the kind of trouble with these girls you say you're having. Remember how you got me hooked up with Lola?"

"Don't forget how you're always helping work things out between me and Oskar."

"I know, guys. But still, it's different when you're helping someone else out versus trying to help yourself. Could I be excused now, Grandpa?"

"You absolutely can be with that negative attitude! Keep your chin up, Arnold! They'll all come around eventually!"

"Oh, now you're going to jump on the bandwagon and act all supportive of the kid?"

"Don't start questioning my motives! You said it yourself that the boy knows what he's doing!"

The bickering started flying back and forth as Arnold left the dinner table. As he made his way through the kitchen and headed toward the staircase, he laughed at the thought of everyone having a heated argument over his petty boyhood problems.

The bus pulled to a stop in front of a purple house. Zeke stepped off the bus, and crept up the steps to the front door. After checking to make sure it was unlocked, he quietly cracked the door open and peered in.

No one was in the main hallway that ran the length of the house from the door to the family room. All of the noise in the house could be heard coming from the kitchen, a loud combination of a blender motor mixing with a gruff male voice. The two sounds seemed to be competing, both growing louder as the other took command.

Zeke snuck in and quickly made his way up the stairs, not wanting to be spotted in the line of sight the kitchen offered. Reaching the top without hearing any yelling being directed at him specifically, he made his way over to a nearby door and knocked.

A voice responded from within, "Who is it?"

"It's me, can I come in?"

"Give me a minute!" Noises could be heard coming from deep within the room. Steps passed from one side to another, and a door could be heard slamming shut after a few moments. "Okay, come in!"

He opened the door and slipped inside, still making sure the adults downstairs took no notice.

"Oh, please! Bob and Miriam barely notice _me,_ let alone my guests."

"I know, but I don't want to take any chances with them. It's never fun having a conversation with Uncle Bob."

"I'll concur with that. So how did it go?"

"I think I managed pretty well."

"Does Arnold suspect anything?"

"I don't think he knows anything for sure, but I did have a few close calls."

"Oh, great! What did it? Was it the cast? The hair? The eyebrow?"

"Actually, it was your stupid phone."

"My phone? I didn't think he'd recognize it."

"Yeah, well, if you would've stopped calling me every five minutes he wouldn't have seen it in the first place!"

"Hey, I need to be informed of the situation at all times!"

"Is that so? Why weren't you there on one of your little surveillance adventures you're always telling me you go on with this guy?"

"I had a group project I had to go work on today! Don't worry, I'll be watching you two the next time."

"I'm not so sure there's going to be a next time."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you need me for? You said it yourself, you picked this outfit out so _you_ could go and snoop on him!"

"That was before, this is now! As much as I like to boast my acting abilities, there are some roles I know I'm just not able to fill. That costume has to fit me now for backup purposes only."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing you have your little backup plan, because plan Z is on his way out of here."

"No, you can't! I need you, Zeke!"

Zeke turned around, stopping before he walked out the door, and looked at his cousin. "Helga, I just don't think it's any of my business to get involved with you two."

"I know, and I agree with you, too. But if you hadn't come barging in here that one day when I thought I had locked the door—"

"I'm said I was sorry, Helga. Besides, just because I know your little secret doesn't mean I'm obligated to help you out."

"No, it doesn't. I just thought you'd want to lend your cousin a hand."

Zeke gave her an annoyed look. "Don't try to play off of me like that, Helga. Don't even—"

"I wasn't playing off of you! Criminy, Zeke, can't you just do this for me as a favor?"

"Yeah, I could. But I don't understand why you can't do this yourself."

"I told you, I couldn't be around him like…that."

"I don't follow."

"You know…being all friendly with him…nice…"

"Oh…I get it now. You're telling me because you're such a weak human being, incapable of treating Arnold with a shred of decency that you need me to fill in for you. Is that it?"

Helga looked at the floor and answered quietly, "Yes."

Zeke came over and sat down next to her on the bed. "Okay, Helga. I'll keep up the charade for a little while longer. I've got to admit, Arnold's pretty fun to be around. And the mentor's a character himself."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me the outfit and get out of here."

Zeke stood up and took off the wig, revealing a much plainer head of short, black hair. He took off the shades, revealing a pair of mahogany brown eyes sitting under what turned out to be a fake unibrow attachment, placed there only for consistency if Helga were to don the costume. Finally, Zeke took off the fake cast and laid the whole arrangement on Helga's nightstand.

Helga continued to stare into the floor as Zeke made his way toward the door, not wanting to bother with his cousin's closed-off state.

"Zeke, before you go…"

He stopped at the door again, reluctantly listening for what she would say.

"Look, I know it's hard for you, having to come over here with the possibility of dealing with Big Bob, with everything that's happened between him and your dad. And I also know that we've never exactly been friends or anything—"

"Helga, what's your point?" Zeke impatiently spoke towards the door.

"I just wanted to say thanks."

Zeke resisted the chance to acknowledge her gratitude any further. "No problem, G."

"See you later, Z."

Author's notes: I'm sorry, but I thought I'd have a little fun with you guys after some of you couldn't help yourselves in spoiling the surprise. Yes, Zeke was supposed to be Helga in disguise, but it only works for me if no one knows it! I was sort of stuck in the last chapter; I had to put in a few details about Zeke for continuity when I'd reveal him to be Helga later on, but these just turned out to be blatant hints. Oh well, when the audience is as sharp as this one, it's hard to stay ahead (especially Pointy Objects, you're too smart for your own good)!

Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, by the way. I'll be looking forward to seeing everyone's reaction to this new twist I've added. Thank you for reading!


	14. The Dispute

Author's notes: Wow, was that a long wait or what? Some of you may or may not have noticed that I have been doing some other things in the past month. Most notably, I've had a brand-new story up for a bit over a week now over on FictionPress, which I hope everyone will go read and review after this chapter (click over to my profile, then to my Web site, then over to the story with the link on my home page).

But now we're back to this story. This chapter is the first of a pair of chapters that will deal with Helga and Gerald. A lot of you will be screaming about missing details after this chapter, but don't worry; I'll fill in the pieces later on.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Hey Arnold!_

"Okay, people, that concludes our math lesson for today. Now, we're going to spend the rest of the time before recess working on our science projects, and I'll need each of you to tell me what it is your pair will be presenting."

It was all going in one ear and out the other for Helga as she stared at the elliptical cranium in front of her. _He must have been in a hurry this morning and in his haste applied too much of that shampoo of his. _She inhaled deeply. _That is _so_ intoxicating! Yes, it does look like he made a mad scramble this morning; his hair's a little more wild than usual, and his clothes don't have that fresh-pressed appearance they usually do. I wonder if he slept well last night. I sure didn't._

Helga's thoughts returned to her latest scheme she had hatched mere hours ago, the prior afternoon. She appreciated and loved an evil plan as much as the next power-hungry bully, but part of her was feeling slightly remorseful for deceiving her beloved. _Oh well, what other choice do I have? It's not like I can just go up to him and explain everything._

_Or could I? I suppose it's possible. After all, he sort of knows already, doesn't he? Why should I be making this any harder? Yeah, going up to him would be a piece of cake. There'd be nothing to it. "Look, Arnold, remember the little incident we had on the roof where I kissed you and everything, and then later on I passed it off as 'crazy' and being 'caught up in the heat of the moment?' Well, the thing is, I really wasn't caught up in anything! I meant every word!"_

"What words did you mean?"

After starting to mutter her thoughts, Helga snapped her head back down from staring at the ceiling and looked her interrogator straight in the eye. "Stop creeping up on me, you tall-haired little creep!"

Arnold had gone to the back of the room to join Lila, and in his place now sat Helga's partner. Gerald leaned back in his seat as if a tidal wave was passing over him. "All right, don't be so touchy, Helga!"

"Oh, you don't want to see me when I get 'touchy.'" She held up her good fist to illustrate her point.

"Whatever, can we just try to agree on something to do this project on?"

"I told you yesterday, I don't really care as long as it minimizes the amount of effort I have to put into it."

"Well, how about you put forth the effort to come up with an idea?"

"What effort do we need to come up with an idea? Let's just copy what Football Head and Ms. Perfect end up doing back there."

"We're not going to copy anyone, at least until we make an attempt at something original."

Mr. Simmons came over to Helga and Gerald. "Okay, have you two decided on what you'll be doing?"

They frowned and rolled their eyes up to meet the teacher's gaze.

"I see. You're the first group I came to, so that's fine. I'll come back to you after I've been around once. I'm sure whatever you come up with will be extra special!"

As Simmons passed down the row of desks to the next pair, Helga whipped out a comic book and plastered it to her face. "Let me know when you come up with that 'special' idea."

Gerald pulled out a sports magazine and mirrored Helga. "You'll be the first to hear." 

"Come on, Lila, I know this isn't what we agreed on yesterday, but I think this would be a lot more fun for both of us."

"I'm not so sure, Arnold. We'd have to spend ever so much time together and there's a chance we could, you know, get on each other's nerves."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be nearly as bad as what I had to go through last year. I know it won't turn out that way, Lila; I promise."

"Okay, Arnold, but do you think Mr. Simmons will let you do the same project twice?"

"I'm sure I can convince him."

"Arnold and Lila, I'm sure you two are really cooking up something spectacular! What have you got for me?"

"It depends, Mr. Simmons. Are we allowed to do a project that's very similar to the one I did last year?"

"Oh, well, how similar is it?"

"It is fairly similar, but I think I can change it up enough to the point where I can accomplish something new."

Mr. Simmons listened with great eagerness, more than that with which Arnold spoke. "I see! Well, I think since I haven't seen your project from last year anyway since I wasn't your teacher yet, there's no problem with you doing it again. But you're not just doing it over to take the easy way out, are you?"

"No, of course not! See, the thing is, my partner last year sort of screwed the whole thing up and I never got to do it the way I really wanted."

"In that case, I'll have no problem letting you do it again. Now, what might this be called?"

"Biosquare."

_That little ingrate!_ Helga began grinding her teeth, thoroughly disgusted at what she was hearing behind her. _That was _our _project, and possibly the greatest twenty-four hours I ever spent with my love, and now he wants to "do it over" with Lila? I thought he actually appreciated the time we spent together! Despite the fact that we were getting on each other's nerves the whole time and set to kill in the last few hours, it all worked out in the end with one of those overly sentimental and dramatic endings that truly brought us together!_

_Well, now we know what you _really_ thought of our precious time spent together, Goofwad. I wouldn't have traded that day for anything or anyone, but apparently _you_ saw things a little differently! We'll just see how "Biosquare: Part II" turns out if _I_ have anything to do with it!_

_But wait! This is one of those times where simply sneaking around and hatching evil surveillance schemes won't do! I can't watch him for twenty-four hours without getting caught! Besides, that old fossil will be watching them the whole time, preventing any type of successful sabotage. I need a legitimate reason to get close to that greenhouse!_

"Did you come up with anything yet, Helga?"

"No, Geraldo! Quit pressuring me!"

"He's already halfway around the room. You'd better get with the program."

Helga quietly laid down her comic book, which had been providing the privacy for her to brood over Arnold without anyone noticing, and glared over at her partner. Gerald was playing her game; that much was apparent. Helga had never taken notice of Gerald's relatively lazy nature as it pertained to school. Sure, every kid looked for the easy way out of their schoolwork, with the possible exception of Phoebe, but some of them had actually built a reputation on it. Helga was one of them, and Gerald now seemed to complement her in that respect.

Seeing that action was necessary to achieve the bare minimum goal of a project idea, she yanked his magazine from his grasp and slammed it down on the desk between them.

"Hey, I was reading that!"

"Not my problem! Look, we can sit here all day beating around the bush with our magazines and comic books, but at some point we have to come up with _something."_

"So come up with it already and let me get back to my magazine!" Gerald went to pick up it up, but Helga smacked it back onto the desktop, almost tearing off a corner of the cover as she did so. "Do you have some kind of condition I should be aware of, Helga, or are you just trying to get under my skin?"

"There are two of us here, so we might as well both do some of the work."

Gerald blinked in astonishment. "Both of us? Are you saying you're offering to do your fair share?"

"If it gets it done faster, then yeah, I am."

"That's all I wanted to hear out of you."

"Huh?" Helga thought about this comment for a moment and, realizing what he meant, slapped her forehead and ran her hands down her face. "You're telling me that we wasted almost ten minutes in this 'sit-down strike' just because you had some ulterior, altruistic motive to get me to do my work?"

"No, that's just what it appears to be. The true reason I did it was just to annoy you."

"Oh, really? That's _so_ mature, Gerald."

"Compared to you, it is," he said as he brought the magazine back to his eye level, blocking out Helga from his view.

"Arnold, you seem a little distracted. What ever are you watching over there?"

"I can't believe Gerald got stuck working with _Helga._ They don't seem to be getting along, but it's not like you'd expect them to, either."

Lila leaned to get a better view of the odd couple at the other end of their row by the wall. "I'm sure they can work out whatever differences they have. We should get back to this Biosquare thing now, Arnold. It seems oh so interesting now that you've explained most of it to me."

"Gerald probably won't get that bent out of shape about it, but with Helga around it's a whole different—" As he spun back around in his seat, Arnold's eyes met up with Lila's, stopping him dead in his tracks. That familiar, seductive glare had a power over the boys in the class that bordered on unexplainable. Every guy her age had fallen victim to her stare at least once. Arnold was slowly learning over time that this look didn't always imply affection on Lila's part, but that didn't matter when he came face-to-face with her.

Arnold glanced back in Helga and Gerald's direction, trying to avoid Lila's hypnotic gaze. He then felt her hand tap his. Not possessing the strength to resist her touch beyond her stare, he surrendered and gave her his full attention. "Okay, I guess they'll be fine. It's not like they'll kill each other."

Helga reached across the desk, yanked Gerald's magazine from his grasp and ripped it in half. "How's that for immature, Bucko?"

Gerald's eyes went wide. "That was my dad's limited edition swimsuit issue! He's going to kill me!"

"Swimsuit issue? So that explains your unnatural interest in that thing! You got any other interesting reading material I can tear to pieces?"

Gerald picked up the two halves of his dad's magazine and threw them in Helga's face. "How about you try tearing this in half?" he asked as he held up his fist.

Helga didn't immediately respond, as she noticed about half the class was now taking interest in their squabble. Mr. Simmons hadn't taken notice yet, being on the opposite side of the room, so she figured it was safe to proceed and save face with the rest of the class. She cracked her knuckles, despite the pain from putting pressure on Old Betsy's wounds. "Oh, you don't want any of this, Tall Hair Boy."

"The hell I don't! I like to play it cool most of the time and everything, but Helga, if you're going to push me like you've been doing here for the last few minutes, I won't hesitate to straighten you out!"

A few of the kids in nearby desks "oohed." Helga, in fact, was just as surprised after Gerald had taken one of the big steps in school-war etiquette: foul language. Okay, so "hell" didn't pack as much of an impact as certain other words, but it was a matter of time at this point. Helga wouldn't have a problem keeping up with anyone in a cursing contest, given her paternal influence, but she preferred to avoid Big Bob's vocabulary when possible to minimize her resemblance to the Beeper King.

The audience was growing with each passing second, and Helga was still taken aghast at Gerald's huge alteration in character. To make matters worse for her, in surveying the room to see who was watching, she discovered that Arnold and Lila had joined the rubberneckers. _Drat! Why can't she be useful for once and keep him occupied? How am I going to pull this one off? If I take Tall Hair Boy out, I remain the champion of the schoolyard, and at the same time become Arnold's mortal enemy! But I can't just let Gerald win! Helga G. Pataki doesn't back down from anyone, boy or girl!_

Just when the situation seemed hopeless to Helga, she thought she saw a break coming. Mr. Simmons was on his way back to find out what they had decided to work on. Gerald would straighten up and forget about the whole thing and she'd be in the clear!

"Okay, Gerald, Helga, what have you got for me?"

Helga smiled at Mr. Simmons nervously. "Uh, Mr. Simmons, see, the thing is—"

"We'll let you know after recess," Gerald interrupted.

"Um, I'm afraid I can't allow you two anymore time on this. Everyone else in the class has already given me their project ideas, and—"

Gerald whipped around and got in Mr. Simmons's face. "Look, me and her have some issues to work out over the whole thing, so if you could just help us out this one time, I'd appreciate it."

Mr. Simmons took a step back, another victim of Gerald's aggressive turn. "Fine, that'll work! If it'll help you make your project better, than you can have recess to work out all the kinks in your plan."

The bell rang as if it was waiting for Mr. Simmons's cue. The kids stood up out of their seats, but didn't immediately rush out in typical stampede fashion. Instead, they waited to follow the two combatants stationed in the front corner by the door. Gerald got up first, put his hands on the desk, leaned into Helga's stone-like face, and gave her a peck on the cheek. The class "oohed" again.

Helga was unmoved by this highly unusual display. As soon as Gerald "told off" Simmons, she immediately shifted into full-on confrontation mode. Arnold didn't matter now; Gerald was calling her out, and she'd never failed to answer. She reached up to her face, wiped her cheek clean, and asked Gerald in as calm a voice as she could, "And what might that have been for?"

"I was giving you your goodbye kiss." The class "oohed" even louder.

Mr. Simmons looked up as he took a seat at his desk. "Uh, class, you do know recess has started?"

Helga stood up and shoved her way past Gerald, who hardly budged as she passed. He followed her out the door into the hallway, along with the rest of the class.

Phoebe came running out of the crowd up to Helga. "I apologize for asking, but is there a reason you two are about to engage in what appears to be a schoolyard fight?"

"Reputation, Phoebe. Reputation."

"What? Oh, come on, Helga, that's silly! There has to be an easier way to settle this!"

"Why don't you go ask your boyfriend that? As far as we're concerned, _he_ called _me_ out!"

As Phoebe and Helga argued ahead of the main group, Arnold tried to get answers out of Gerald. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Never felt better, Arnold. In fact, I'll be feeling really great when I get this over with."

"But this isn't like you, Gerald! You've never called anyone out before, and of all people, you call out Helga?"

"Arnold, you've gotta agree with me that she's had this coming for like…well, forever!"

"Yeah, maybe she has, but I still don't think it's a smart decision."

"I don't care what you think it is! She's going down, Arnold, end of story!"

"Place your bets now, folks! I've got five dollars that says Helga goes down in less than a minute!"

"I'm in on that, Sid!"

"Yeah, me too!"

"Put me down for ten!"

"Lorenzo, you can't put in more than five!"

"He can if I match his bet. Put me down for ten as well, and I'll throw in an extra ten on me just to sweeten the pot!"

"Rhonda, since when are you betting on the fight?"

"I've wanted to see Helga get hers as long as I can remember."

"Okay, fine then, but we need counter bets here! Who's down for Helga to win? Come on, someone has to bet on Helga or there can't be any winners!"

"All right, Sid, I'll take Helga for five… Madam Fortress Mommy!"

"Okay, Harold down for five, any other takers for Helga?"

"I really admire the effort, Phoebe, but I have to stick up for myself!"

"But Helga, what about ice cream?"

"What about him?"

"Won't this just make your… chances worse?"

"It probably will, but I really don't have a choice at this point!"

Helga reached the doors to the playground first shoved them open. Phoebe and Arnold slowed down and joined up with the rest of the class as Gerald went out the door after Helga. The class filed out and formed a circle around them. The "fight" chant began shortly after the circle was formed.

"I hope you're not having any second thoughts, Number 33!"

"Is that supposed to be some kind of trick on your part to get out of this?"

"I'm just giving you your last chance to walk out unharmed, Zygote!"

Every line drew loud hollers from the class, which was growing thirsty for action at this point. Gerald looked ready to go now, but Helga continued to stall. Despite her willingness and anxiety to rip the stack of hair off the head across from her, she knew she needed to come up with an alternative to this fight where she could still reign supreme over her opponent. "Care to make this interesting?"

"How so, Helga?"

"Let's say we settle this with a greater test of skill than just our fists!"

Gerald raised an eyebrow, apparently interested. "What are you proposing, here?"

Helga looked over by the wall where she thought it might be. It was still there, untouched by the other classes so far during recess. _Perfect, I can humiliate him beyond any beating I'd dish out._ "Phoebe!" Her lackey quickly came to her side. Helga whispered something in her ear, prompting Phoebe to make her way through the ever-growing circle of tweens and retrieve the object Helga was eyeing.

"Oh no! Uh-uh! That ain't fair, Pataki!"

_I've got him now._ "Oh, what's the matter? Big bad Gerald can't handle a little jump rope competition?"

Harold stepped out into the circle upon hearing the newly proposed contest. "No way! I want to see blood!"

Helga pulled the big lummox in close enough for her to speak into his ear, "Pipe down, you dolt! I've got a huge advantage over him if we're jumping rope, and you've got five bucks riding on me! You should be rooting for this!"

He stepped back to his position in the circle, and stammered out some false enthusiasm, "Yeah, jump rope! This should be, uh, really something!"

The implications promptly registered with the rest of the betting kids. "Hey, Sid, I want out!"

"Yeah, Gerald doesn't stand a chance now!"

"Give me back my twenty bucks!"

"Sorry, folks! All bets are final!"

"That's right don't give them back their bets, Sid! I want to put more money on Helga!"

"Yeah, let me in on this now! Five on Helga!"

Helga smirked as a fight was starting to break out in spite of her change to a less confrontational game. She turned back to Gerald, "Well, it seems your fans have lost their faith in you!"

He glared at the master schemer as Phoebe brought Helga the long jump rope used for jumping twosies. "Why don't we make this a little more interesting?"

"All right, I suppose you can throw your own twist in if you like."

"Let's have Phoebe and Arnold work the rope."

Arnold went over to Gerald upon hearing his friend's suggestion. "Okay, Gerald, aren't you two getting a little carried away now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've got the whole class in an uproar over a bunch of bets, and you're going down the warpath with Helga."

"What's your point?"

"Well…"

"Arnold, it's going to be settled right now, so stop worrying about it. Besides, it's not like anyone's going to get hurt."

"You're going down, Johanssen!" called out the terror in pink. "Phoebe, pick up your end, and don't even think about protesting!"

Phoebe complied without a word. Arnold reluctantly picked up his end of the rope as well, now wanting to just get the ordeal over with.

A voice called out from the crowd of kids, "Hey, they're starting!"

Everyone quickly backed away from Sid to watch the contest unfold, muttering as they went, "You're dead if she wins, Sid."

"If Gerald wins, you owe me Mr. Fudgies for a week, Sid!"

Sid sat up from the fetal position he had retreated to and collected the money left behind from the scavengers. Stinky stayed behind to help him up. "Sid, I reckon you're not exactly cut out for the bookie business."

Helga and Gerald stood in the middle of the newly formed circle and faced each other in an intense stare-down. The crowd grew silent. Arnold asked, "Are you guys ready?"

"Ready," Helga quickly answered.

"One more thing before we get started, Helga. Loser has to come up with the idea for the project."

A huge smirk came across Helga's face. "That confident, are we? Fine then, deal!"

Gerald returned the arrogant look. "I'm ready now, Arnold."

Arnold called across to Phoebe, "Start on three."

"Got it."

The crowd of kids joined in, "One, two, three!"

More notes: The situation is just too perfect for a cliffhanger there! I'll reveal Gerald and Helga's project in the next chapter, and the rest of the pairs and their projects will come later on (you'll see how). Thank you for reading!


	15. Harbor Street

Author's notes: Thanks to all my readers who didn't desert me after a near one-month delay between updates! This was only a two-week delay, and I think it was worth it. 

This chapter jumps right into the jump rope competition, but that's not the main issue, as you will see. The first half resembles a songfic, with pieces of the rhyme "Harbor Street" thrown in. The second half makes such a shift in tone that it could almost stand on its own as another chapter, but I left it in here. 

And for the record, this is the longest chapter of this story so far. Make sure you're comfortable! 

Disclaimer: I do not own _Hey Arnold!___

_When they get in fights, this is what they say…_

The rope whipped up toward the sky, passed over the two competitors, smacked down onto the blacktop and passed under four feet without any obstruction.

With the contest officially underway, Helga wasted no time getting in Gerald's head. "You've already exceeded my expectations, Geraldo!"

"How's that?"

"You made it past the first hop. Most boys I've seen trip the rope on their first try."

"I'm not 'most boys,' Helga."

"Apparently so, but you still have your limits! By the way, which one of you onlookers is keeping count?"

"That would be me." Peapod Kid raised his hand and stepped forward. "You've just passed fifteen."

The jumpers paid little attention to Peapod or anyone else, at least in the visual respect. Their eyes were locked on each other in the same intense gaze as when they took their positions.

"Thirty."

The crowd of kids had been very loud at the start of the battle, but was gradually quieting down with each revolution. Most were expecting someone to screw up within ten whips of the rope. Now it appeared there would be a wait.

"Forty."

_Boys are rotten, made out of cotton…_

Sid snuck through the crowd and made his way over to one of the rope handlers. "Arnold, you gotta help me out here."

Keeping his eyes on what he was doing, Arnold quickly mumbled, "Not the best time right now, Sid."

"I know, you've got the rope job and all, but I'm in way over my head here! Half the kids are coming up to me trying to demand their bets back while the other half wants to raise theirs!"

"Fifty."

"Sid, please! Why don't you just run off and hide somewhere?"

"'Run off and hide?' Arnold, that was my plan in the first place! I thought you'd have a better idea!"

"Sorry, it's all I can think of at the moment!" Arnold was growing impatient with what now seemed like a fly buzzing over his shoulder.

"Okay, fine then. I'll go hide now and you can come help me after you get done here."

"Sixty."

"Sounds good! Bye, Sid!"

"Hold on, I need to tell you where I'm going. Let me whisper it in your ear." Sid stepped up to Arnold's side and put his hand to the side of Arnold's head. Not paying attention to Sid's impending approach, the sudden touch startled Arnold, causing him to reflexively swat away the intrusive appendage. This distraction further caused him to bring the rope down early, almost hitting Helga and Gerald in the process.

After dodging the wayward swing, Helga shouted, "Sid, you screw this up and I'll relocate your nose to the other side of your head!"

Being on bad terms now with almost everyone in the schoolyard, Sid bolted for the door and back into the building.

_Girls are sassy, made from molassy…_

"Seventy."

"So where are you keeping your rabbit's foot?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I do, because it's sheer luck that you've lasted this long with me. Heck, if we go much longer, I'll set a new personal best!"

"That's great, Helga! Make sure you give me all the credit!"

They shot each other mutual dirty looks. The crowd of kids continued to "ooh" as each taunt was tossed back and forth, but for the most part the congregation was silent.

"Eighty."

_What's going on here? How can this moron actually be keeping up with me? He even has to duck his head slightly when he jumps to keep his stack of hair from catching the rope, and keeps going like it's nothing! I'm not so sure about this now._

"Ninety."

Someone besides Peapod Kid spoke up from the crowd, "Hey, are one of you gonna lose here soon? I'm getting hungry and need to make my run to the vending machine!"

"I think Bubba's got a point, Helga. We're obviously not being tested here with this pace we're at."

"You want to… speed things up?"

"Damn right!"

"Well…" Helga trailed off without answering.

"Come on, Helga! I want to go eat!"

"Pipe down, Pink Boy! I'm thinking about it!"

"One hundred."

"Look, we've just gone past a hundred without a problem. Let's speed it up so we get this over with! That is, unless you're… _chicken."_

A huge gasp came from the crowd. Part of this was due to Gerald's mention of "chicken," and part of it was because Helga narrowly missed tripping the rope after hearing the word herself.

"One hundred ten."

With an uncomfortable feeling that the odds were sliding in Gerald's favor, and with no alternative after being threatened with "chicken" status, she quickly complied. "Fine then! You want fast? I'll show you fast! Pheebs, Football Head, double the speed!"

Phoebe and Arnold glanced across at each other, half-shrugged their shoulders, and gradually increased the rope speed until it was going about twice as fast.

"One hundred twenty."

_Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider…_

"One hundred thirty."

The crowd of kids began to murmur again as the pair continued jumping.

"They're moving so fast, it's like a blur!"

"I'd have to agree there, Harold. In fact, it's sort of… uh, what's the word for when something puts you into a sleepy kind of stare?"

"One hundred forty."

"It's hypnotic, Stinky. But don't worry about them putting you to sleep or anything; this will be over pretty soon at this rate."

"I reckon you're right, Rhonda. A person can only jump for so long."

"One hundred fifty."

Harold glanced over his shoulder while Rhonda and Stinky discussed the outcome. "Oh, uh, hi, Principal Wartz!"

"Good morning, Mr. Berman. May I ask what is taking place here?"

"These two had a fight about something earlier, and they came out here to settle it."

"One hundred sixty."

"Is that so? You know, Mr. Berman, I myself was one of the best jump ropers back in my day. I could go for days on end without ever catching the rope once. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to jump rope for quite some time."

"Was it because you got too fat?"

"As a matter of fact, it was. I'm sure you can 'identify' with me."

"Yeah… I suppose."

"One hundred seventy."

_Girls go to college to get more knowledge…_

"You getting tired yet, Helga?"

"You wish! I could go all day on this thing!"

"One hundred eighty."

"What is your record, anyway?"

"Well, if you _really_ have to know, it's two fifty."

"Two fifty? Is that all?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing; I just thought you would've done better than that."

"One hundred ninety."

"Don't worry, Tall Hair Boy; I'll shatter that record after you go down in flames!"

"Hey, I don't know how you two are feeling, but my arm's killing me. Can't you just stop and call this a draw?"

"Two hundred."

"Pipe down, Arnoldo! We're doing the real work here!"

"Yeah, don't worry about it, man! I'll beat her soon enough!"

The eerie silence made its prompt return after Gerald's last remark. The other fifth graders could tell that Helga and Gerald were approaching their physical limits. Rhonda quickly explained to the people around her how Helga had set the playground record a couple years ago. Apparently, she had reached the 250 mark running off the fuel of four Yahoo sodas she drank during the lunch period in which she accomplished the feat. Today, the sugar and caffeine rush was not present, at least not to the extent of the previous attempt. Without question, someone would bail very soon.

"Two hundred ten."

"I hope… you didn't… jinx yourself, Helga!"

"Why's… that?"

"You said… what your record was. That means… you probably… won't make it now!"

"Two hundred twenty."

She gasped for more air, "That's just… a superstition!"

An unexpected voice cried across the playground, "Yoo-hoo! Baby Sister!"

Helga almost landed on the rope after mistiming her jump. For whatever reason, Olga was standing out on the sidewalk by the school. Beginning to panic, Helga refused to look in her older sister's direction, focusing all attention on Gerald as she gutted it out and continued to propel her body off the ground.

"Two hundred thirty."

"Helga!" Olga called again.

She was closer now; Helga could almost see her approaching the circle of kids out of the corner of her eye. _No, don't come over here! For the love of Bob, please don't!_ Thankfully, most of the kids hadn't taken notice of Olga yet, as there was still plenty of noise and Olga's squeaky voice could only be distinguished by a trained pair of ears like Helga's.

"Two hundred forty."

"This… is it… Gerald! You're not… gonna quit… on me now, are you?"

Gerald simply glared back at her without so much as a blink.

"Helga, you silly goose! You forgot your allergy suppository when you left this morning!"

Immediately following this piece of information from Olga, who now stood right next the crowd of kids and was perfectly audible, a loud snap could be heard, followed by the smack of a body hitting concrete.

For a few seconds, the group stared in amazement. Roughly a dozen jaws were dangling toward the ground in total disbelief of the outcome. Then, the silence was broken and the laughter floodgates began opening.

"She lost to a _boy_ in a jump rope competition!"

"She landed right on her butt!"

"Yeah, I hope she's not hurt bad enough to take her suppositories!"

As the laughter rose into the sky, the former jump rope champion lay prostrate on the ground, defeated and humiliated. She rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in her hands.

Olga crept in through the throng of amused fifth graders and knelt down. "Are you okay, Baby Sister?"

Helga snapped her head up off the ground and shot her sister an irate look, amplified by the tears forming in her eyes. Olga got to her feet and took a step back as Helga quickly stood up with her. Helga snatched the small paper bag Olga was holding and took off running for the relative safety of the school building.

A moment after the door closed behind her, the bell rang, signaling the end of recess.

"Awww! I never went and got my Mr. Nutty bar!"

"I truly feel your pain, Harold. I tell you what: I'll buy us both a Mr. Nutty at lunch with the money I won by bettin' on Gerald."

"Thanks, Stinky. You're a real pal."

As most of the class made its way back to room 206, Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe remained outside for a minute, along with Olga. All four were in speechless from the display they had just seen unfold before they're eyes.

"Well," Arnold spoke up, "I guess you won."

"I guess."

Arnold frowned at the flat tone in which Gerald answered. _This is really depressing,_ he thought as he turned to Olga, who had a mixture of confusion and worry showing on her face. "Uh, I think you can go now. Helga should be fine."

"Oh… okay." Olga turned and left quietly. She looked like a dog leaving with her tail between her legs, aware of her responsibility for the events that had just unfolded.

"We should probably be heading in now," Phoebe politely spoke as she wound up the rope. She placed the rope back on its old, rusty hook and led the boys back into the building. They reached the classroom just before the bell rang.

"Gerald, just the boy I need to see! So, what's the project going to be on?"

"Huh? Oh, actually, Helga's supposed to have the idea, so you should probably be asking her for it."

"Okay, then. Where might she be?"

"Why are you asking me? Didn't she come back to class?"

"No, I'm afraid she didn't. Why don't you take the hall pass and go find her?"

Gerald sighed, "All right, I'll go hunt her down."

"Great, and while you're out there, keep an eye out for Sid; I don't see him in here, either."

"Yes, sir," Gerald mumbled as he went out the door. _All right, guess I should start back at the playground door and work my way inward. I swear, this girl's more trouble than she's worth._ As Gerald reached a T-intersection in the hall, Sid came around the corner and smacked into him.

"Whoa! Sorry, Gerald. Hey, by the way, who won?"

"I did, but I think I just made things worse with Helga."

"So that's why she came barging in on me!"

"Huh? You saw her?"

"Yeah, I was hiding in the janitor's closet until everyone went back to class so I didn't get mauled for money when it was over. She busted in on me and threatened to make me eat my hat if I didn't let her have the room to herself."

"Is she still in there?"

"As far as I know. But I wouldn't go near it if I were you."

"I ain't got much of a choice with Simmons demanding we give him our project idea when I bring her back in there."

"In that case, it's been nice knowing you, Gerald."

Sid continued on his way back to class as Gerald rolled his eyes. He turned the corner, went down the hall by which Sid came and reached the janitor's closet door. A faint, indistinguishable sound could be heard within. _Is she doing what I think she's doing? _Further listening confirmed what he thought it was. _I've got a feeling she won't be any easier to deal with like this._ He knocked and spoke in a polite tone, "Hey, Helga, you in there?"

The low sound quickly hushed. After not getting a response for a few seconds, Gerald tried the doorknob. It was locked. "Come on, Helga, open the door."

"Go away!" came the rude response. The door remained locked. _Okay, Gerald, whatever you do, don't lose your patience here. She's not going to open the door, so I need to find a way in._ He looked around as he brainstormed and summarily recalled that Phoebe's locker was across from the closet door. Admitting to himself for the moment that he was her boyfriend since he knew her combination, he popped it open and found what he sought: paper clips. Returning to the door, he straightened a clip out and stuck it in the keyhole. He expected Helga to rush to the door at any moment and hold it shut, but the closet was silent inside.

With relative ease, the lock clicked open and Gerald slowly opened the door. She wasn't laying in wait for an ambush. Helga was sitting on the old filing cabinet that lay in the closet, which many bullies had used as a "desk" for generations. She was facing the back wall with her head down and shoulders slumped.

Gerald was in total disbelief for a few reasons. This was the first time he'd every seen Helga like this; it was surreal in its own unique way. The mighty bully had been felled, and by him of all people. But it was bittersweet. He thought it would be great to see Helga "get what was coming to her;" instead, he received a heavy dose of remorse. Even she didn't deserve to be in this pathetic of a state.

"Uh," he timidly spoke, "Mr. Simmons wants you to come back to class."

She didn't answer.

"Helga, did you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, but I'm not going!"

Gerald tightened his fists. "Don't start in with me, Helga. Let's go."

"No."

_Okay, looks like I'm dealing with a brat._ "You know, Timberly acts more mature than this most of the time."

"Oh, was she the one who taught you how to jump that well?"

"Of course. You didn't think I'd do something like that if I knew you'd hand my butt to me right off the bat, did you?"

Helga stood up, whipped around and leaned across the cabinet, "I knew it! You set me up! You acted all worried at the start just so I'd go through with the idea!"

This time, Gerald didn't respond. The outburst was bad enough, but coupled with the look on her face, it was enough to catch anyone's tongue. The room didn't have the best lighting, with just a single light bulb in the ceiling, but he could see that she'd been crying since she came in there. Her eyes were pink and puffy, and remnants of tears could still be seen on her cheeks.

Gerald took a deep breath. "Look… don't be acting like this is my fault. After all, the jump rope was your idea."

"You're the one who wanted a piece of me!"

"Yeah, because you tore my magazine in half! That's a collectible!"

"Oh, big loss there! It was just a bunch of pictures to feed your perverted boyhood mind!"

Gerald quickly went over and shut the closet door. It was bad enough she was screaming loud enough for the whole school to hear, let alone about the Johanssen's prized "collection." "Fine then! Let's put the magazine aside. All you did was lose a jump rope match. It's not the end of the world."

"Are you kidding me? Of course it is! I lost a jump rope contest in front of the whole class, and on top of that, Olga comes out of nowhere with my 'stuff!'"

"What are those for, anyway?"

"Miriam bought one of those cereals with the strawberries in the box the other week and fed them to me one morning. I wasn't fully awake and didn't realize what I was doing until I was almost done eating."

"That's right, I forgot you had the strawberry allergy. Why'd they have to give you suppositories?"

"Who knows? I think the doctor was just looking for the most humiliating way for me to take them. Plus, ever since Big Bob took them for something a few years ago, he thinks they work better than oral pills and tries to get them every chance he gets."

"Anyone ever tell you your dad's nuts?"

She glared up at him and returned to her near-fetal sitting position.

"Couldn't they have just given you some salve like they did that one time back in kindergarten?"

"Probably, but like I said, Bob's a—wait, how did you know about that?"

"I was the one who had to give it to you that time, remember?"

Helga thought back to the first time she had a breakout from her allergy. They served strawberries for a snack one morning, and hives began forming before she even finished her bowl. Gerald was the first one to notice; he told the teacher, who then gave him a tube of ointment. Despite being strongly resistant, Helga allowed him to apply it on her back where she couldn't reach. "You… remember that?"

"Of course I do. It was the most disgusting thing I had to do in my life."

Helga laughed. "Believe me, the feeling's mutual, Bucko."

"Whatever. Come on, let's get going."

"Are you deaf or something? I told you, I'm not going back to that classroom."

"Oh, come on! You can't stay in here forever, Helga!"

"Of course I can. Tell Phoebe to bring me my lunch, and tell Simmons I went home sick."

"Hey, I'd let you stay in here for all eternity, except I need my partner to come and tell our teacher what we're doing our science project on."

"You think I give a crap about that stupid project? I'm not going back in there— no matter what."

"Look, no one cares about you losing or your stupid suppositories! Quit acting like such a baby!"

Helga's shoulders sank even further. "Just leave me alone."

Gerald backed away and paced around the closet. _Man, how am I going to get her out of here?_

"Let me go! I told you, I'm not going in there!" Helga continued to squirm, but to no avail. Gerald had successfully pulled her two-thirds of the way back to the classroom, enduring several bruises on each side of his body where Helga thrust her fists and elbows.

Principal Wartz passed by them in the hallway. "Mr. Johanssen, Ms. Pataki, do either of you have a hall pass?"

Gerald produced it from his pocket. "I'm retrieving her for Mr. Simmons."

Wartz checked the pass and then took note of the way Helga was slung in Gerald's other arm. "Is there a reason you're dragging her?"

"Yeah, because he's taking me against my will! This is abduction! I'm gonna—"

Gerald slapped his hand over Helga's mouth and quickly thought of an excuse. "Uh, she hurt her leg jumping rope during recess and the pain killers the nurse gave her are messing around with her head."

"Is that right? Well, be careful with her. I've seen men on the battlefield do some terrible things under the influence of morphine."

"I think it was ibuprofen."

"Of course. Carry on, then."

As Wartz made it to the other end of the hall, Helga bit one of Gerald's fingers and made a break for the exit. Instead, her face found the tile about six feet down the hall. She rolled over and tried to kick Gerald's hands off her ankle. "You are _really_ asking for it now, Hair Stack!"

"Am I really? You've softened me up enough already, so why don't you take your best shot?"

Helga didn't think twice. She spun around and lunged at Gerald, slamming him into a nearby locker. "You are playing with fire if think I'm going in there!"

Gerald slipped out from her grasp, got behind her, and put her arm in a hammerlock. "And you're just kidding yourself if you think you're getting out of this!"

"Ow! Gerald, seriously, why are you going to all this trouble?"

He relaxed his grip a bit at the notion she seemed to be proposing. "What do you mean?"

Helga snapped her arm free and shoved Gerald out of her personal space. "What I mean is, why are you enduring all my physical and verbal abuse? If I were you, I would have gone back to Simmons when I found the locked door. Why'd you stick around?"

He didn't answer. Gerald was stumped.

Helga turned around and faced him with a mischievous look on her face. "Oh, isn't this rich? You actually felt bad about what you did! You felt _sorry_ for me!"

Gerald crossed his arms and faced the other direction. "I don't follow you."

"Neither one of us give a crap about that project. You could have lied and said you didn't know where I was. Simmons is a throw pillow; he'll buy any excuse you give him."

"I know, I know."

"So what was it, then?"

"I felt bad, okay?" Gerald's raised voice backed Helga into the wall, wiping the sly look off her face. He approached her. "You know, there's something wrong in that head of yours. I go to the trouble to hunt you down, absorb all of your abuse, all in an attempt to bring you out from under this rock you've buried yourself under, and then you make fun of me for doing it?"

"What's your point?"

Gerald's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. She was too much. He paced down the hall, flinging his arms up in frustration. "You know what," he spoke as he came back, "just forget it. Stay out here and act like a two-year-old. I'll go tell Simmons you took a long walk off a short pier and be done with you altogether."

"Ha! Good luck with that!" Helga casually leaned up against the wall, waiting for Gerald's response. Instead, he began walking toward the classroom, which was only a few yards away from where they had just been. "You're actually going back without me, huh? What are you going to tell Simmons our idea is?"

"I don't know. I'll probably just do what everyone else is doing."

"Oh, he'll be riveted, I'm sure!" She began to laugh, but then something went off in her head. The idea materialized almost instantly. "Gerald, that's it!"

He stopped at the door. "What's it?"

"That's our idea! We'll do what everyone else is doing!"

He gave her a skeptical look. "Maybe you should stop by the nurse's office and have Sheena's aunt check your head for loose wires."

Helga ran up to him and pulled him a couple steps back. "Look, I can't explain it right now; it's still kind of fuzzy in my head. Let me hammer the details out with Simmons and I'll tell you about it later."

"I don't know, I'm thinking I should work by myself now."

Helga recognized her responsibility for his skepticism. "Okay, fine, I'll set the record straight! You beat me, you were the better player, I acted like a spoiled brat, they'll forget about the whole suppository incident in a few days, and you were completely and one hundred percent correct about everything!"

As Helga caught her breath from her long-winded spiel, Gerald gave her a mock ovation. "Now, was that so hard?"

She socked him in the arm. "Trust me, I _will_ return the favor."

Gerald stepped aside as she went back into the room ahead of him. As he went to follow her, he reassessed his situation. _I have to put up with this for the next three weeks until this thing is due? _He cracked a smile. _Sounds good to me._


	16. Cliff Jumper

Author's note: There isn't an excuse in the world that would do this lengthy delay justice, so I won't offer one. I'll thank everyone for their reviews ahead of time if anyone is kind enough to still offer one. Whatever the case, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Does anyone really own _Hey Arnold!_? Yes, and it's not me.

A pair of kids sat at the counter in Slausen's, the crooks of their backs lodged on the edge of the ceramic. Neither looked at the other. Their eyes were both locked on a point of interest, straight out the window and across the street.

One finished her Yahoo float, and after drawing every last drop from the glass, annoying the other customers with the loud sucking sound, she set it on the counter behind her and snapped her fingers.

Slausen himself responded immediately. "Another refill, Ms. Pataki?"

"Yeah. And I want two straws this time. Bendy straws."

"Yes, of course. Anything for your… friend there?"

"I'll have a cup of chocolate sprinkles with butterscotch on top."

"Oh… well, actually, we don't usually sell the toppings by themselves—"

Not in the mood for petty disputes, Helga whipped around and interrupted him, "Look, Pal, I've still got all the dirt on the little head knocking incident we had here Monday night, and don't think I won't hesitate to spill the beans to a lawyer interested in it!"

Slausen sighed. "All right, I'll make him the sprinkle-butterscotch concoction. How's fifty cents sound for a price on that?"

"Whatever, just put it on my tab."

The two kids returned to their eagle-like trance, focusing on the doors of the large building opposite the ice cream shop. "You think you got it now?"

"Pretty much. Let's go through the strategies again to make sure, though."

"Okay, just remember to play everything by ear."

"Right."

"Be natural."

"Yeah."

"Be yourself."

"Of course."

"Try to keep Arnold the subject of the conversation, and preferably include Lila in the mix."

"Got it. Only… there's one thing I don't get."

"Shoot."

"Why is the conversation supposed to be about this Lila girl? Wouldn't it make more sense to talk about you?"

Helga didn't respond at first, instead using Slausen's return as a convenient excuse to look away. She brought the two bendy straws to her lips, drew in as much soda as her mouth could accommodate, and held it there for a moment. Mostly, it was the outright fear of finding out what Arnold truly felt about her. Helga had another motive, though: third party testimony to the succubus that was Lila Sawyer.

She glanced to her left and saw that Zeke was eyeing her, patiently waiting for an answer. Before her mouth burst open like a dam, she swallowed her drink and quickly answered, "Just keep it about Ms. Perfect, okay? And don't call her that or he might know something's up. All you need to remember is that she's the biggest, purest piece of filth to ever set foot in that school, and the more you create that impression of her, the better!"

Zeke cautiously slid back to the middle of his seat after getting beaten back by Helga's outburst. "Yeah, I got all that. I was just curious why you didn't want to be mentioned."

"Do I really have to explain that part to you?"

"No, not really. It'd probably be healthy if you did, though."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, you're just a bit… obsessed, is all."

Helga scoffed, "Is that right? I never claimed sanity, you know."

"At least you have a good sense of humor about this."

"I'd be lost without it."

Slausen presented Zeke with a small bowl, the contents bearing a bizarre resemblance to chili. "I hope you don't mind that it's warmed up; the butterscotch wasn't cooperating with the sprinkles while it was cold."

Zeke thrust a plastic spoon into the inverted sense of taste before him. The contents made a squishy popping sound as he scooped them out. He took a huge bite and gave Slausen a thumb up as the owner returned to the back. "You know, I think we're being too hard on that guy. He does make the best sherbet shakes in town."

"I'll be nice to him another day. We've got business to attend to," Helga slowly rose to her feet, "and it's arriving as we speak."

"Arnold, what possessed you to come here the other day? I mean, a mentoring program? Seriously, I know you're into the whole leading-by-example thing, but with something like this? Come on, man!"

"Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Are you jealous of me hanging out with other people or something?"

"Absolutely! You knew it was always _my_ dream to spend every other afternoon talking to some college student about problems I never knew existed!"

"Why didn't you join me, then?"

"Sarcasm, Arnold. Learn to recognize it. If I ever have any problems—which is rare, mind you—I've got plenty of resources at my disposal."

"Fuzzy Slippers doesn't count, Gerald."

"Of course he does! He's never steered me wrong before! You've gotta at least give him props for hooking us up with Bridget."

"Fine, Fuzzy Slippers is all right. So what group are you and Helga visiting today?"

"Sheena and Eugene. They're investigating the health benefits of various forms of dance."

"Sounds… well, I want to say interesting, but… anyway, what are you guys doing there again?"

"Beats me. She promises she's going to explain it better when we get over there. I could really care less. But Arnold, check out this guy coming across the street!"

Their attention was drawn to the walking embodiment of 70's preteen fashion making his way along the crosswalk. Little did Arnold, or Helga, for that matter, realize that today they were getting a taste of the real Zeke. Granted, the fake afro wig wasn't part of his usual wardrobe, but the near-skin-tight plain white t-shirt and snug blue jeans were actually his own clothes. Helga, having spent very little time with her cousin in recent years, figured it was another costume he had thrown together, and probably could care less why he chose it as she watched from the window in Slausen's.

Zeke cleared the corner and approached the perplexed pair standing by the YMAA doors. "Arnold! So you came back for some more of the mentor guy too, huh?"

"I… sure did. Zeke, this is my best friend, Gerald."

"Nice to meet you." Zeke extended his hand.

"Sure, same he—yah!" Gerald recoiled his hand in pain. "Jeez, man! Where'd you get a grip like that?"

"From my cousin. Me and her used to really go at it: thumb wars, arm wrestling, the works."

"You don't say?" Gerald answered in an annoyed tone, rubbing his sore appendage. "I could see that. I mean, there's this one girl our age who could probably squeeze your hand harder than that."

"Who's that?"

"See for yourself. Here she comes now." Gerald pointed over Zeke's shoulder at the keeper of the Five Avengers, which were capable of popping your knuckles for you, or breaking them if you so allowed. Zeke turned around to watch his cousin's approach, giving an impression of apprehension.

Helga smirked, as she came within speaking distance, "Well, well, what do we have here? Football Head, Tall Hair Boy… and you must be the kid who stuck his finger in the electrical socket one too many times."

Zeke rolled his eyes, "Yeah, never heard that one before. You must be the illustrious Helga I've heard so much about."

"That would be me, the one and only."

"Sure. Anyway, I have a name and it's Zeke." He extended his hand.

Gerald quickly interrupted, "Hold up, man. I just met you two minutes ago, but I still have to say I don't think it's a good idea to be making friends with her."

Before Zeke could ask why, Helga threw her foot down. "Hey! The little creep's got some class, which is more than I could say about either of you two." Helga then snatched Zeke's hand. The two of them squeezed each other's hands until they were both bone white, neither willing to let go. At the same time, they eyed each other sharply, as if exchanging last minute words on the game plan.

Helga gave him a straight look, _Don't do anything stupid._

Zeke gave her a confident return glance, _You're looking at the master right here._

Arnold stepped forward, "Okay, before you two crush your hands into dust, we should all get going. I just saw Will inside talking with Coach Wittenberg."

Zeke detached his hand from Helga's. "All right, Arnold, I'm going. Helga, it was… 'nice' to meet you. Gerald, the same."

"Whatever you say, but as far as I'm concerned, you're all a bunch of nutcases." Gerald gave Arnold the secret handshake and started down the street.

Arnold and Zeke turned to go into the gym as Helga mocked them, "Have fun at your little therapy session, Buckos!"

As they watched her walk away, Zeke asked Arnold, "What's with that girl, anyway?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't spend time trying to figure her out, either. It'll give you a headache after a few minutes."

The two of them made their way through the entranceway and over to Will, who was standing under one of the unused hoops. "Gentlemen! Glad to see I didn't scare you guys away after the first day!"

Zeke laughed nervously, "No, we're… still here."

Will smirked. "Jeez, Zeke, don't act so excited about it. I hope you guys don't mind being out in the open here, although it's not like a huge crowd is here to listen in on you anyway."

The boys briefly glanced over the gym. Aside from Wittenberg coaching his new fourth grade team in the far corner and the poker players gathering by the door to the meeting room, the place was deserted.

"Okay, guys; let's go sit up in the top of the bleachers." As they made their ascent, Will commented to Zeke, "Hey, did you get your cast off?"

"Huh?"

Arnold then took notice, "Yeah, I can't believe I didn't notice that. It healed up already?"

It took Zeke a moment to realize he and Helga had both forgotten about that piece of the costume. "Oh… uh, yeah, I guess I'm just a fast heal—" He tripped as he went along, and stumbled and scrambled the rest of the way to the top, trying to keep his balance. He took a seat next to Arnold at the top.

Will looked at him curiously. "You okay there, Zeke? You look a little pale."

Zeke raised his shaking hand to his face and fixed the sunglasses he did remember to wear. "I'm fine, I'm fine! No problem here!" He flashed a dopey grin at both of them.

Gerald pressed the doorbell button and turned to Helga, "You know, you still haven't explained this project to me or anyone else but Simmons. In fact, if Sheena and Eugene don't know what it's about, how did you talk them into letting us come over in the first place?"

"Who says I talked them into it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Helga grinned.

"You didn't tell them we were coming at all?"

Her grin almost grew past her ears as she sarcastically replied, "Oh dear! It must have slipped my mind!"

Gerald faced the door again, hearing approaching footsteps from within. "Well, it ain't my problem. Just remember, you're doing all the talking about this thing."

"Glad to see we finally have an understanding," she replied as the knob turned.

Eugene gave them a surprised look as he opened the door. "Helga? Gerald? What are you guys doing here?"

Gerald went to respond, "Oh, nothing. In fact, we were just leav—"

"We hate to barge in on you like this, but it's important school business. Is Sheena here?"

Eugene took a cautious step back as Helga forcefully closed Gerald's mouth and set one foot in the house. "Yeah… she's here. We were just about to start working on our science fair project and—"

"Perfect! Great timing! Mind if we join you?" Helga asked as she rushed in, pulling Gerald along by the arm.

Eugene closed the door behind them. "Uh, sure. So what's this school business of yours?"

"I'll explain in a minute. Nice place you got here, by the way, Eugene. Very clean and… ordinary."

"Thanks, I guess. Sheena and I were going to work in the living room. We needed the extra space."

"Fantastic, why don't you and Gerald go fix the drinks and I'll go grab a seat in there."

She left the two boys alone in the entryway before either could answer. Like they were under a spell, they automatically walked into the kitchen, and after filling four glasses with ice, Eugene finally stopped and asked Gerald, "Why are we getting drinks for Helga?"

Gerald looked at Eugene with sympathy. "Let me give you a tip here: Just go along with whatever she says and we'll get through this a lot faster."

"But I don't know what 'this' is."

Gerald poured out the last Yahoo. "Neither do I, Eugene. Neither do I."

"You're being straight with me, Zeke, right? Completely, honestly, you've never had a crush of any kind on a girl?"

"Will, I'm being totally straight: not a single crush, ever."

"I'm not buying it."

Arnold chimed in, "Me neither."

Zeke was unmoved. "Then don't buy it. I told you guys, I like to keep all my 'options' available, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I'll bet I do," Arnold muttered.

"Arnold, don't get on his case about it. I think it's a very mature view you've got there, Zeke. Personally, when I hit that age, I started crushing on girls immediately, which is why I was leery of your answer, but whatever."

The trademark awkward pause interrupted the conversation yet again. Will glanced back and forth between the boys. Zeke was trying to make spit bubbles with moderate success. Arnold shifted his weight around on the uncomfortably sturdy bleacher, keeping his eyes on his shoes and rubbing the width of the back of his head. "You seem to have something to say on the issue, Arnold. Spill it."

"Er, well… I don't really have anything to say about it, per se…"

A bubble popped. "Don't let him get away with that, Will! Look at him starting to blush! Who's the girl, Arnold?"

"Shut up, she's no one special!"

Zeke was having a good laugh as Will, casually putting his hand to his mouth, tried not to get caught up in the foolery. "Let's keep it frank, Zeke. You don't have to say much, Arnold. If you just give us her name and one or two things about her, and then we can discuss other things about girls in general from there."

"Fine. Her name's Lila, and she…"

A snicker escaped Zeke's lips as Arnold trailed off. "Wow, I think I'm in love, too, with a name like that!"

Arnold ignored him and continued talking, directing his words more toward Will. "I don't know, she's just one of those… how can I put it… 'good girls.' You know what I'm talking about?"

"Oh, I know what you're talking about!"

"Zeke, put a lid on it. Arnold, I know what you mean. We talked about her the other time too, right? Would you say that other boys are interested in her in the same way?"

Another long pause followed Will's latest query. Zeke popped something in his mouth and sat in quiet anticipation, ready to egg Arnold on.

"To be honest, I never thought about that too much, but now that you mention it, I think every guy in my class would kill to have her."

"Wow, she sounds hot!"

Will shot Zeke a glare that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"O…kay. Tell you what, I'll take a stroll outside and leave you two alone." Zeke took what turned out to be a piece of gum out of his mouth and stuck it under his seat. He then stood up, straightened his outfit, hopped down to the gym floor and strode toward the exit.

"Could you run that by us just one more time, Helga?"

"Yeah, I'm your partner, and even I don't understand what we're doing."

The girl in pink took a long breath. "First, check your ears to make sure you've got all the wax cleared out. And now I'm only going to repeat this one more time."

Eugene pulled his finger out of his ear. "Wow! Guys, this piece of wax looks just like the Abdicator!"

"Let me see!" Gerald pulled Eugene's finger into inspection. "Damn, you're right! You must really have that guy on your brain!"

Sheena looked at it and exclaimed, "Quick, Eugene! We need to get this preserved!"

"To the kitchen! I'll get the Saran Wrap!"

"Earwax preservation—_this_ I have _got_ to see!"

The three ran out of the living room. Helga stood there, mouth parted, ready to speak. As she listened to the pandemonium unfolding in Eugene's kitchen, including some glass breaking and an "I'm okay," she managed to utter, "I just lost out to a piece of earwax."

A pulsing device in her pocket attracted her attention. Checking the ID, she passed by the preservation chaos and stepped out the front door. "What is it?"

"I've gone to plan B."

"Plan B? Already? That's supposed to be your last resort!"

"I know, but I pushed their buttons too quick. Will was giving me the evil eye. Plus, Arnold looked ready to rip my head off."

"Oh, please. He couldn't rip wet toilet paper. Even if he tried, you could take him, easy."

"Of course, but you know I'm not the fighting type."

"Sure, aren't we all? Is the bug live yet? I want to listen in if you're going to use it."

"Yeah, just give me a sec. But how is it you can listen in on it? Aren't you supposed to be doing that project of yours right now?"

"I don't know; let me check." Helga stuck her head back in the front door for a moment.

Eugene could be heard in the kitchen, "Don't worry, guys. I've lit the pilot on my oven dozens of times."

She closed the front door and sat down on the stoop. "It'll be awhile before they need me again."

"Great. I'm all set now, I think." Zeke peered in through the glass doors. The lobby-like entryway of the YMAA was perfect for surveillance. For whatever reason only the building's architect knew, each wall in the small lobby had a deep alcove. Zeke took a seat on the floor in the one that gave him the clearest view of the mentor and his single protégé. He produced a small black receiver from his pocket and began to fiddle with its switches.

"Any chance you can tell me where you get those little toys of yours, Z?"

"Take a guess, G. Who's the only person in this town you know that can supply this kind of stuff?"

"If I knew who it was, I would have gone and picked up a truckload of those surveillance gizmos a long time ago."

"And then you wonder why I don't tell you her name."

_"Her_ name?"

Zeke dropped the device and scrambled to put the dislodged batteries back in it as he tried to keep the phone propped up to his ear. "Yeah… it's a 'her.' What's the difference?"

"It's that Bridget girl, isn't it? The one who showed up the morning they were going to tear down the Vine Street neighborhood and flew a VCR down on a wire like she was Catwoman?"

"When did she do that?"

"Ha! So it _is_ her then! She's the one that gave you the gumball bug!"

"Yeah, so what? You gonna go raid her place and plant a bunch of hidden cameras in Arnold's house now?"

"Shh! Ix-nay on his ame-nay, you idiot!"

"Relax, G. I've got me a nice little spying hole here where he can't hear or see me, but I can still hear him." With that, Zeke flicked the final switch on the little box, bringing forth a crackling, fuzzy dialogue.

_"You know, Arnold, girls can be hard to read like that sometimes. They do things we guys don't have the capacity to comprehend."_

"Turn that thing up, Z! I want to hear it through the phone!" Helga waited and didn't hear anything. "Z? I said turn it up!"

"It _is_ turned up!"

Loud laughter amplified even further by the volume setting on the bug's box boomed out, followed by a screeching piece of feedback that made both Zeke and Helga drop their phones in surprise. Helga picked hers up and got on her cousin's case. "Loud enough for me to hear it, not to make me go deaf, moron!"

"Sorry, I don't know what happened there." Zeke turned the volume back to where it was before and peered at Arnold and Will closely. "That's weird, both of their lips are moving, but I'm only hearing Will through the box."

"Come again?"

_"So is she the only girl of interesting discussion, Arnold, or is there someone else?"_

"Damn it, Z, answer me when I ask you a quest—"

"Shut up for a sec, he's moving onto someone else besides Lila! I'll try to make it loud enough for you without getting any feedback." Zeke increased the volume to just before the feedback kicked in. "Arnold's talking right now and I'm not hearing him. I think it's because he's facing away from the bug."

"Well, why didn't you put it where you could hear him, you—"

_"Helga, eh? The name sounds scary enough!" _Will's latest comment silenced both Pataki cousins. _"So she picks on you and stuff?"_

Silence. "Arnold's telling him something right now, and he looks ready to throw up."

Cracking sounds could be heard coming from Helga's end.

"Something wrong with your phone, G?"

"No, that's just me crushing it in my hand. Keep telling me what you see."

_"Okay, I get the picture, Arnold. Tell me, have you told anyone else about this problem you've had with Helga?"_

"He's nodding at that question and saying something."

"I bet he's told his grandpa about me."

_"Your grandpa? I'll bet he had an interesting point of view on it."_

"He's looking at Will… pretty weirdly… there, I think he said, 'How did you know?'"

_"Because, I've got a hunch of my own."_

_"Let me guess, you think she picks on me because she likes me?"_

"What was that?"

"Arnold turned away from Will when he said that. He's facing the bug now; we can hear him."

_"Yeah, that's what I was going to say. It's pretty typical. Girls of all ages use that trick when they like a guy and are too shy to say so."_

"Wow, he's got you pegged, G."

"Shut up, I want to hear what Arnold says!"

_"I don't care how typical it is. If a girl likes you like that, how does she think constantly harassing you is going to help anything?"_

"Because it's fun, doi!"

_"Well, for one thing, it's probably fun for her to pick on you. But also, if she's always picking on you, it gives her an excuse to be around you all the time."_

"This guy's too smart for his own good."

"I told you, he's got you pegged."

_"She hangs out around me half the time anyway. My best friend's kind of got a thing for her best friend, so Helga's always nearby. But even when Gerald and Phoebe aren't around, she shows up and starts in on me. Sometimes she's across the street from my house for hours on end, jumping rope, waiting for me to come out. And then there was this other time where she stood outside my room all night with a bullhorn counting down the time until I was supposed to die at the hands of the class bully."_

"You stood outside his room all night with a—"

"Quiet! I'll tell you all about it some other time!"

_"…Sometimes I really wish I could give that girl a piece of my mind."_

_"Why don't you?"_

_"I heard that just makes things worse. I try to ignore her."_

_"Doesn't sound like that's working. In this instance, that might be making it worse, too. Forgive me, but I'm curious: What would you say to her if you were to give her a piece of your mind?"_

Total silence preceded Arnold's answer. Zeke was growing interested in the conversation now. Helga was ready to pass out from holding her breath in anticipation.

_"I guess if I really wanted to lay into her, I'd basically tell her to stay out of my life. 'You obviously don't want anything to do with me, and I could care less about you, so just stay away from me. I'm sick of all the crap you put me through, day in and day out. Do us both a favor and go jump off a cliff or something.'"_

"Why you little—" Helga's voice cut out.

"G? You there? Hello?" Zeke switched the phone off after he didn't get an answer.

_"To be honest, I can't really see you saying something like that to her."_

_"No, I probably never would. Besides, she's not all bad. There are the occasional times when she's okay to be around. Heck, I even kind of like her when she's like that, so maybe there's some hope there, right?"_

_"Maybe. Hey, what happened to Zeke? He's been gone pretty long."_

"There's my cue." Zeke shut off his listening box and casually strode back into the gym as if he'd been out walking around the whole time.

"Yeah, I'll go jump off a cliff! In your dreams, Football Head! Why don't you take the leap yourself, you… you…" She screamed and finished stomping her cell phone into oblivion. She'd overheard him talk of her like this before, but now she knew he was saying what he truly felt. Everyone tells the truth around someone like that, right? Either way, he sounded like he really meant it.

Helga kicked a few of the phone's bigger pieces into the gutter and plopped down on the stoop, defeated. What was the point of her pursuit? Even if it were possible to somehow get Arnold to see things her way, it would take a gargantuan amount of effort on her part, more than she could afford in her desperate mental condition.

The front door opened behind her, snapping her out of her spiraling depression. "We're done early, I guess. Eugene set his hair on fire trying to get his pilot relit on his oven and they're taking him to the hospital. You'd think, as big of a jinx he is, his parents would keep a better eye on him."

"Yeah… he's pretty hopeless."

Gerald noticed the wavering tone of Helga's voice, and then spotted the phone remnants on the sidewalk. "Do I even want to ask about this?"

Helga wiped a stray tear from her face before Gerald looked at her for an answer. "Oh, uh… see the thing is, if my phone breaks, Bob always gives me a new one that's twice as good as the one before. He just got a bunch of those new picture phones last week, and I decided that I really needed one."

"Sabotaging your dad's generosity. Nice. Well, I'm heading back to the gym, then. Got nothing better to do. You coming with?"

"What makes you think I'd want to go back there?"

"I don't know. Maybe you wanted to bug Arnold some more."

Helga exhaled in an annoyed manner. "I've had enough of him for one day. I'll see you later, T.H.B."

"You guys are sure I can't offer you a lift? I can take you anywhere in the city."

"Really, we're fine, Will."

"Okay. See you guys next week, then."

As Will drove off, Gerald commented to Zeke and Arnold, "Yeah, I'll hop into some guy's car and trust him to actually take me home."

"Tell me about it. Well, I'll see you two around." Zeke crushed Arnold and Gerald's hands in the customary gesture and departed. He crossed the street and went into Slausen's, returning to the same seat at the counter he sat at earlier. "What happened to you? Did you hang up on me or something?"

"Sorta. You're lucky I even came back for rendezvous."

"Conversation wasn't to your liking?"

"That's one way of putting it."

He glanced over at Helga. She was staring out the window in the same manner as a few hours ago, now focused on the duo at the bus stop on the corner. In their prior session in the ice cream shop, she was the embodiment of clear, focused determination, solid as a rock. Looking at her now, her hand twitched and her eyebrow made strange, unnatural angles above her eyes. Listening closely, he could almost hear her teeth grinding.

"You know, I think you might have the wrong impression about what Arnold said back there. After you—"

"Don't start with me, Zeke! I know _exactly_ what I heard! There's not a damn thing that little twerp could have said after that to change anything! I know what he really thinks of me now, and that's all there is to it! End of story!"

Zeke flashed a nervous smile to the other customers in the room while he spoke out of the corner of his mouth, "Okay, sorry, just don't make a scene."

"I don't give a crap what these people think! All I care about is what Arnold thinks, and he thinks I should go jump off a cliff! Well, he's going to have to throw me off the cliff, 'cause I'm not going anywhere!"

Slausen came out in his typical nervous fashion. "Ms. Pataki, could you lower your voice, please? The other customers don't appreciate your caterwauling."

"So what? I don't care what anyone thinks of me! The one person that I _did_ care about what he thought has a pretty sour opinion of me, so what difference does yours make?"

Gerald glanced out the window as he took his seat on the bus. "Someone's raising hell inside Slausen's."

Arnold leaned over and looked for himself. "Yeah, it's some kid. It'd help if Slausen wasn't such a pushover."

"You know, the hair on that kid looks a lot like Helga's. Wouldn't surprise me none if it turned out it's actually her in there."

Arnold didn't respond. He quietly watched the ten-year-old girl get increasingly more rowdy as the bus pulled away.


End file.
